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AMERICAN LITERATURE 



A TEXT-BOOK 



FOR THE USE OF 



SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES 



BY 



JULIAN HAWTHORNE 

AND 



LEONARD LEMMON 

Superintendent City Schools, Sherman, Texas 



BOSTON, U.S.A. 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 

1896 






Copyright, 1891, 
By JULIAN HAWTHORNE 

AND 

LEONARD LEMMON. 



>lttgustana College Uby* 
Sert CL ?■ 1^34 



J. S. Gushing & Co. '-Berwick & Smith. 
Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 



PREFACE. 



American Literature has of late been receiving considerable 
attention. Professor Moses Coit Tyler and Professor Charles F. 
Richardson have each published histories about it. Under the 
editorship of Charles Dudley Warner, a series of volumes on 
American men of letters is now appearing. Mr. E. C. Stedman, 
in conjunction with Mrs. Hutchinson, has followed up his " Poets 
of America " with a handsome array of tomes entitled " American 
Authors," and Mrs. Sarah K. Bolton's "Famous American Authors'* 
does a similar thing on a much smaller scale. Many American 
authors have themselves been yielding to an autobiographical im- 
pulse, the fruits of which have appeared in magazines and news- 
papers. Mr. John Bigelow has won the gratitude of students by 
his exhaustive work on Benjamin Franklin ; and Emerson, Thoreau, 
Poe, and others have been the subjects of various biographers. 
Our literary men seem in no immediate danger of being forgotten. 

It is singular, therefore, that so few school manuals, devoted exclu- 
sively to American Literature, have yet been put forth. Until quite 
lately, almost the only approaches to such a thing have been in the 
form of supplements to manuals of English Literature, or of Uni- 
versal Literature — essays of a dozen or a score of pages, appended 
in a shamefaced manner to the latter extremity of a volume. Shaw's 
" EngUsh Literature," for example, concludes with a very concise 
"sketch" of our leading writers, written by H. T. Tuckerman — a 
careful and scholarly piece of work, and good enough for English 
pupils, but quite inadequate to the needs of our own schools and 
academies. There can be no question of the expediency of afford- 
ing the rising generation of this country an adequate notion of 
what American Letters really are. But books like those above 
mentioned are not suited to this purpose, and were not designed 



iv PREFACE. 

for it. A school-book was wanted : something to be used in the 
class-room, to be studied for what it contained, and to indicate 
further lines of research where such are required. No work is so 
certain to lead to results of lasting value as that which is pursued 
independently. 

To meet these needs, the present "Manual " has been written. 
In preparing it, we have examined books of biography and criti- 
cism, both well-known and obscure. We have had recourse to 
various public libraries, and to some private ones. Where author- 
ities have conflicted, we have hunted down our facts through the 
columns of magazines, pamphlets and monographs. When no 
conflict existed, we have availed ourselves of the best published 
statements. But in the matter of passing critical judgments upon 
literary work, we have followed our independent conviction, and 
must be held responsible therefor. 

Kindly aid has come to us from several sources. Mr. Charles 
W. Stevenson, of W^arrensburg, Mo., and Messrs. H. C. Davis and 
C. C. Hemming, of Gainesville, Texas, have lent valuable books 
and papers. Dr. Leslie Waggener, chairman of the Faculty of 
Texas University, has given friendly counsel ; and to these and 
other friends we return our hearty thanks. 

The selections from the writings of O. W. Holmes, R. W. Emer- 
son, J. G. Whittier, Bayard Taylor, J. R. Lowell, and H. W. Long- 
fellow are used by permission of and arrangement with Houghton, 
Mifflin and Company, Publishers, Boston, Mass. 



TABLE' OF CONTENTS. 



For Names of Writers see General Index at End of Volume. 



PAGE 

Preface iii 



To Teachers vii 

Introduction ix 

CHAPTER I. 
Colonial Literature i 

CHAPTER n. 
Benjamin Franklin 14 

CHAPTER 111. 
The Revolutionary Period 22 

CHAPTER IV. 
Pioneer Period , 37 

CHAPTER V. 
Some Statesmen and Historians 69 

CHAPTER VI. 

Poets of the First Half Century 89 

V 



vi TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE 

Religious and Social Reformers , ii8 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Nathaniel Hawthorne , 155 

CHAPTER IX. 
From Hawthorne to Bret Harte 170 

CHAPTER X. 
The Innovators 241 

CHAPTER XI. 
Writers of To-day 267 



TO TEACHERS. 



This manual is intended to be, not an end in itself, but a means 
to an end. It is not to be regarded as a substitute for independent 
literary study. It is a method and a guide ; did it attempt to be 
more, it would attempt too much. At the present day it is hardly 
necessary to remind teachers of this. 

Mastery of the lines of study herein marked out involves con- 
siderable reading on the pupil's part. Under proper encourage- 
ment and guidance, pupils will not be found to show aversion to 
reading. The practical experience of several years has convinced 
us that if a pupil be led with tact, and if the leader be himself an 
intelligent student, genuine interest may be awakened and main- 
tained. Every human activity has found expression in literature, 
and no human mind can fail to find somewhere in literature con- 
genial food. Longfellow may find an echo in those to whom 
Emerson is too remote. If Jonathan Edwards be too abstruse, 
try Irving's essays ; or his " Knickerbocker," should Bancroft seem 
dry. Something can be found to suit every grade of development 
and variety of temperament. 

It will often happen that those features in a book which please 
the pupil, are not those which a cultivated judgment would prefer. 
Enlightened appreciation of literature is a plant of slow growth. 
What one gets from a book depends on what one brings to its 
perusal. Let not the teacher, therefore, feel discouraged. If 
ninety per cent of a beginning class dislike poetry, do not try to 
convert them by argument ; read them Longfellow's " Paul Revere," 
or Browning's " How they brought the Good News from Ghent 
to Aix," or Campbell's " Hohenlinden," or even Cowper's "John 
Gilpin"; and before you have finished, their conversion will 
have commenced. 



viii TO TEACHERS. 

It has been left to the teacher to supply questions involving 
rhetorical criticism, when such are deemed desirable. Youthful 
literary enthusiasm is apt to be checked by over-insistence upon 
technical details. The thought is the vital thing, and should be 
the goal of early study. " Poetry," says Matthew Arnold, " is a 
criticism of life." ,» Do not lead the pupil to suppose that it is an 
illustration of rhetorical and metrical rules. 

Such questions as have been included in the volume are sug- 
gestive mainly. Encourage the pupils to ask and answer questions 
of their own. Make the class a forum of free literary discussion ; 
thus stimulating interest, increasing critical acumen, impressing 
striking features and revealing the tastes and ability of the pupils. 
Make them tell in their own words the substance of their yester- 
day's reading. Cause the author and his work to live in their 
minds, and you will not find them lacking in proficiency. 

Standard writers are now obtainable at so cheap a rate, that 
any one may afford the material for a year's reading in connection 
with this manual. Lovell's twenty-cent " Library," for example, 
contains Bryant, Willis, Poe, some of Whittier and Longfellow, 
Cooper, Irving and Emerson. Selections from the best American 
authors are to be had at fifteen cents a number in Houghton's 
Riverside Literature Series. Complete editions, when accessible, 
are of course to be preferred to selections ; and the spread of 
free libraries tends to smooth the way. The objection of expense, 
at all events, is not a serious one. 

A list of useful reference-books is appended. They should be 
comprised in every school library. 

Notice of errors detected in this volume, and suggestions and 
criticisms looking to its improvement, will be thankfully received 
by the authors. 



INTRODUCTION. 



In criticism, as in biography, the optimist does best. For true 
optimism impHes not indiscriminate complacency, but beUef in 
growth towards higher states. It is faith in man's The point of 
destiny, and in the Divine ordering thereof. In deal- view, 
ing with the subject of American Hterature, optimism is not expe- 
dient only, but indispensable. Unless we can see promise in it, 
there is not much, as yet, that we can see. After a few great 
names, — to be told off, perhaps, on the fingers of one hand, — 
we are at the end of our original creative geniuses. All the rest 
are either reflections of these, or of European models, or else are 
really nothing at all but print and paper. 

There is no ground for discouragement in this. Genius, like 
other phenomena, is subject to statistics, and America, in propor- 
tion to her age and population, has had as many gen- ^j^^ condi- 
iuses as any other nation. The mass of all literature tion in 
of modern times is made up of writings below the first -^"i®"*^^- 
class. Readers no more than authors can or ought to be always 
at concert pitch. We like to climb a mountain now and then ; 
but we live in the valleys. And in American literature there are 
many pleasant glades, with a certain distinctiveness of scenery, 
wherein we may wander harmlessly and even profitably. These 
native vales of ours are broadening as we advance, and assuming 
a richer as well as a more characteristic aspect. They remind us 
less of England, of the Rhine, of the Campagna, or what not, and 
more of America — of something that we can never find abroad. 
Meanwhile, our mountains, after the fashion of high things, have 
always been individual. Seldom, in the world of letters, do we find 
such another heaven-scaling crag, with its feet in the deep sea, as 
Webster : nor so pure a summit, sublime with transcendental snows, 

ix 



X INTR OD UCTION. 

as Emerson : nor anything to match that enchanted height, dim 
with fairy mists, and near and remote as the rainbow, that is 
Hawthorne. As for Frankhn, he is a sort of table-land, a conti- 
nent above a continent ; perambulating which we do not reahze 
our elevation, till we come to the brink. 

The fact nevertheless remains that modesty best befits our 
present literary predicament. The potential is not the actual ; 
the acorn, though it be the source of the oak, is but an acorn ; 
and, because our literature looks healthy in embryo, we are not 
to speak of it as if it were anything more than embryonic. We 
have accomplished less in literature than in any other branch of 
human effort. A shipwrecked mariner, cast upon a desert island, 
and obliged to wring his subsistence from the hand of savage 
Material de- i^^^ure, does not begin by writing an epic, a novel 
velopment or even a pliilosophic history. These things will be 
written about him, a thousand years hence, by his 
posterity. The intellect which, among us, now chooses its field 
of work with so much success in commerce, in manufacture, in 
science or in politics, — things immediately essential to the de- 
velopment of our country and people, — might, under settled and 
mature conditions, have achieved corresponding triumphs in litera- 
ture. And the day for such achievements will doubtless come ; 
but we will not seek to anticipate it, for eminence in letters seldom 
comes to a nation until its eminence in other respects has begun 
to decline. 

Literature as one of the fine arts is less than a century old with 
us ; for although much that Franklin wrote has in it that quality 
Pure litera- ^^ modernness that is one of the surest literary tests, 
turebuta yet his aim was always practical or didactic. Irving 
cen ury o . ^^^ almost the first of our writers to cultivate litera- 
ture for its own sake. The productions of our colonial period 
can be called hterature by courtesy only. They consist of his- 
torical and geographical memoranda, and of theological essays 
and arguments. The Revolutionary era is rich in speeches, proto- 
cols and declarations, often elevated in sentiment and massive in 
thought, but dyed in the passionate hues of patriotism and parti- 



INTR OD UC TION. xi 

sanship, and necessarily lacking the repose and balance that 

belong to pure literature. The voice of Charles Brock- 
j T? , r ..*.,, The outline, 

den Brown was as that of one crying m the wilder- 
ness ; his lungs were strong, and his will good, but his tones were 
unmodulated, broken and discordant. Irving was the first to 
discover a native vein, and in his Knickerbocker and Catskill 
legends he worked it to admirable effect. Cooper chose the 
Indians, and the sea in war; Herman Melville, with an unsur- 
passed fascination of manner, told of sea Hfe in peace. Then 
Emerson, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Lowell, Holmes and the rest 
ushered in the present generation. 

Up to this point, the divisions of periods, schools, styles or 
phases are practically the same in all manuals and histories of 
literature. It is with the contemporary and all but contemporary 
writers that divergences of classification begin. A great deal has 
been said on this subject, and with sufficient emphasis. However 
comparatively moderate may be the value of American literature, 
there is no doubt that it has been immoderately gossiped about. 
Sidney Smith began it with his famous interrogation, and the din 
of criticism and defence has been growing ever since. We have 
heard sweeping condemnations, often unjust ; we have The method 
given ear to vociferous eulogies, generally foolish, o^ grouping. 
" Schools " have been detected, where none existed ; geniuses 
have been proclaimed, where there were only ingenious echoes 
or showy charlatans : " tendencies " have been discovered, which 
ended in a cul-de-sac : there has been here and there a bit of 
log-rolling, and now and then a note of spite or jealousy. Mean- 
while, the supply of writers has been constantly augmenting — 
though of persons who ought to write the number is now, as it 
ever has been and probably always will be, very small. But the 
genuine voice is not certain to be the most widely heard, at first ; 
and the very elect among literary detectives may sometimes be 
deceived by specious counterfeit. Time is needed to develop a 
true perspective, and to starve out the fat impostors. Contempo- 
rary judgments are sure to involve some errors ; the best course 
seems to be, first to adopt a sound but not too rigid method of 



xu 



INTRODUCTION. 



grouping ; and secondly, to pick out such illustrative figures as 
shall, upon impartial consideration, appear most nearly representa- 
tive and graphic. The plan is readily formulated ; but rightly 
and conscientiously to carry it out is not easy. 

Literary groups are likely to be engendered, not by the personal 
idiosyncrasies of any single writer, however eminent, but by the 
features anc^^g^ditions of the land and period in which the writ- 
ing is done. We might expect to find, for example, a Civil- War 
group. As a matter of fact, though war histories have been abun- 
dant, war novels have been few, and war poetry not important. 
But the histories, useful as material, are scarcely literature; no 
history of the war has appeared that is final or philosophic. The 
novels may come later, when time has merged the memory of the 
struggle in a richer atmosphere, and has healed its wounds. Again, 
we may look for a class of minds who will find a congenial literary 
topic in the negro — his humorous, pathetic, dialectal, religious 
and political phases. And, in truth, this field has been ardently 
and even fanatically worked ; it might with advantage be allowed 
to lie fallow for a season or two. Once more, men like Bret Harte 
and Joaquin Miller will find their inspiration in frontier scenes and 
episodes ; others, like James, will apply to society themes the 
stimulus of international comparisons ; others will seek inspiration 
among politicians, social reformers, and labor-agitators ; and still 
others, in company with Mr. Howells, will strive by patient dissec- 
tion and refined comment to give value to the commonplace and 
the vulgar. To counterbalance these, there will be a group whose 
choice of a subject is conditioned mainly by its imaginative or 
dramatic promise ; and another who rejoice in subjective, intro- 
spective, esoteric and transcendental studies. Then there will 
always be the sad- eyed army of humorists; and the poets and the 
naturalists — the Thoreaus and Burroughses, who ensconce them- 
selves under Nature's wing, and divide their time between extolling 
her, and criticising civilization. In short, each aspect of national 
activity and circumstance will attract its special knot of investi- 
gators and devotees, and each newly hatched author will betake 
himself to the one or the other, as his innate sympathies dictate. 



INTRODUCTION. xiii 

A classification upon this principle seems natural, and has other 

manifest advantages. The principle is of permanent application : 

as lonaj as the national feature exists, there will the . . , 
° ' A natural 

writers be gathered together. It is a principle which classifica- 

will become more comprehensive the longer it is tionasop- 
^ * posed to an 

applied ; for the tendency of all human activity is artificial 

towards special lines of work ; and writers will be ^^^' 

impelled to "devote themselves to such, not only by natural 

preference, but by condign necessity ; competition is already so 

great that nothing short of special fitness can secure employment. 

It is a principle, therefore, m accord with the law of evolution, 

which is not the case with such artificial classifications as that 

which specifies a " Realistic School," a " Concord School," and so 

forth. There will always be writers, no doubt, who produce work 

in more fields than one ; but even they will survive in their best 

work only, and that will easily be assigned to its proper place. 

And again, there will be isolated individuals who have no obvious 

affiliations, the beauty of whose genius is its own excuse for 

being. They may safely be left to themselves ; there will never 

be so many of them as to create confusion. 

Having adopted our classification, the next step, as we have 

said, is to concentrate attention upon those writers in each group 

who embody in the fullest degree its proper characteristics. The 

others may be no less meritorious from the point of view of 

literary workmanship ; but in an elementary text-book such as 

this, where, out of a hundred names, but one can be mentioned, 

that one must be, first of all, characteristic : study of _,. . 

him must be study of the general traits of his group, with each 

The strictest and most systematic process of exclusion ^^^^' 

is indispensable to a clear conception of the quality and drift of 

our contemporary literature. To attempt anything approaching 

a large faniiliarity with it, would be worse than futile. The value 

of the whole body of American literature is (as we have already 

intimated) but moderate : and although every school pupil in this 

country should know something — and know it accurately and 

systematically — about our representative writers and their books ; 



xiv INTR OD UC TION. 

and though they should give the subject an examination fuller 
than foreign schools would demand, — yet the sense of propor- 
tion must not be lost. Our writers have contributed but a fraction 
to the world's sources of culture ; and if we would avoid the 
crippling of provincialism, we must not only concede this fact 
theoretically, but practically act upon it. 

Let the student bear it in mind, then, that the surest way to 
enhance the prosperity of American literature in the future, is to 
The test to submit it, now, to the severest tests. A high standard 
Reapplied. — ^^e highest — is imperative. Boys and girls now 
at school will, a few years hence, furnish material for a new gener- 
ation of American authors. Let them study this manual, not for 
the glorification of home products, but to realize, by learning 
what has been done, how much remains to do. The purest 
patriotism is the most exacting ; let us prove our faith in the 
literature of this continent by refusing to be satisfied with less 
than perfection. Perfection can never be reached ; but we can 
always climb towards it. Literatures, and manuals of literature, 
come and go ; but all are of no avail unless the human mind. 
Divinely endowed, vindicates its birthright by aiming at a loftier 
and broader culture than the world has yet known. 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



'J<«c 



COLONIAL LITERATURE. 

As THE physical analysis of the Universe begins with protoplasm, 
so must intelligent study of a literature begin with examination 
of the inchoate material upon which the literature is based. 

Literature in the higher sense is a criticism of hfe. But the 

Colonial days of America were days of action, not of thought 

about action. The men who crossed the sea in quest The condi- 

of civil and religious liberty, came not to write, but to ^^^^^ ^^^ 

. , the charac- 

do. Two subjects occupied them, — the Fear of God, terof the 

and the Conduct of the Colony. Such things as they beginning:, 
wrote either told the bald story of their daily hfe, or discussed 
religion, or mingled the two. They took up the pen only in the 
intervals of grasping the Bible, the sword, or the plough- handle. 
As literature, their productions are, in almost all instances, desti- 
tute of value. They are tedious, hfeless and repulsive. Yet, if 
you have imagination and human sympathy enough, you may 
detect in this protoplasmic rubbish the germs of qualities which, 
in their perfect development, made the genius of such men as 
Webster, Emerson and Hawthorne. 

The first American writings are not only not hterature ; they 

were not even written by Americans. There were no 

The source 
American born people, except the Indians, in those of our first 

days. American literature, then, begins with books ^°°^^* 

written about America by foreigners. 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



Character. 



Captain John Smith (15 79-1631) was the first American annal- 
ist. He was a daring, restless, impetuous but shrewci man ; of 
imagination too warm and vanity too inordinate to allow of his 
telling plain truth. He was more quick to magnify 
virtue in speech than to illustrate it by deed. But, 
considering how easily, in those times, he might have become a 
buccaneer and pirate, it is to his credit that he was content to 
remain an adventurer, a pioneer and a gasconading chronicler 

and pamphleteer. 

He wrote much : but his writings 
are of less value than, at the time, 
were his services in the Virginia 
Colony. Of the nine books treating 
more or less of America we give the 
full titles of the first two. It will be 
unnecessary for the student to read 
more of them than this : and the same 
may be said of nearly all the American 
books (so-called) of the seventeenth 
century. They are material for his- 
tory, not for criticism. 

"A True Relation of such occur- 
rences and accidents of noate as hath happened in Virginia since 
the first planting of that Collony, which is now resident in the 
South part thereof, till the last return from thence. Written by 
Captaine Smith, Coronell of the said Collony, to a worshipfull 
friend of his in England. London, 1608." 
The second title-page reads as follows : — 
*' A Map of Virginia. With a Description of the Countrey, the 
Commodities, People, Government, and Religion. Written by 
Captaine Smith, sometimes Governour of the Countrey. Where- 
unto is annexed the proceedings of those colonies, since their first 
departure from England, etc. by W. S. Oxford, 161 2." 

Smith's modern fame is due chiefly to the romantic tale of his 
connection with Pocahontas, the daughter of the Indian chief 
Powhatan. Whether or not his account of her rescue of him 




Captain John Smith. 



COLONIAL LITERATURE. 3 

be true, is not known. We shall, however, lose noth- ThePocahon- 
ing by believing it. Smith himself told it so often *^^ story, 
that, whether really true or false, it doubtless seemed true to him. 
" It is true," he observes in one place, " in our greatest extremitie 
they shot me, slue three of my men, and by the folly of them that 
fled tooke me prisoner; yet God made Pocahontas the King's 
daughter the meanes to deliver me : and thereby taught me to 
know their trecheries to preserve the rest." Smith spent less 
than three years in America, including his visit to the Isles of 
Shoals on the New England coast ; but he fell in love with the 
country, and always did what he could to advance its interests. 

Other early Virginia annalists are George Percy, William Stra- 
chey (whose account of a storm that shipwrecked him is, by 
some, thought to have been in Shakespeare's mind a t, * 
when he wrote " The Tempest ") , and John Hammond, minor writ- 
In Maryland, George Alsop attempted a humorous ®^^' 
descriptive work, part prose, part doggerel. In New York, Daniel 
Denton tried to stimulate immigration by declaring, in his " Brief 
Description," that " If there be any terrestrial Canaan, 'tis surely 
here ! " Daniel Coxe of New Jersey, taking a broader point of 
view, advised the union of the English Colonies as a means 
of preventing Spanish and French supremacy. Gabriel Thomas 
of Pennsylvania, in his " Historical and Geographical Account," 
gives data to show that people squeezed by poverty in the Old 
W^orld might find life easier in the New. And John Lawson (to 
make an end of this dry catalogue) found something to say about 
the country and inhabitants of North Carolina. All these writers 
belong to the first quarter of the seventeenth century. 

Meanwhile, in New England, the Puritan chroniclers were less 
fruitful. They had come to New England to get spiritual hberty, 
not material profit ; to lay up treasure not on earth, . . 
but in heaven. Their bleak land had no allurements tion in New 
for ordinary emigrants, and the Puritans cared not to ^^8^l*^<** 
invite such. Moreover, they were too busy killing and converting 
Indians, fasting and worshipping, building and farming, to find 
time to write. They were not of a literary turn of mind. 



4 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Nevertheless, certain of them, perhaps, recognized the histori- 
cal as well as the religious significance of their exile in the New 
History of ^orld. William Bradford (1588-165 7), a Yorkshire 
Plymoutli yeoman, sailed for Plymouth in his thirty-third year, 
Plantation. ^^^ y^ ^.j^g xi^jiX, year was made governor of the Col- 
ony. He was reelected to that position some thirty times ; his 
administration was both bold and wise, and he was an inveterate 
diarist. His "History of Plymouth Plantation," begun in 1631, 
was continued uninterruptedly down to 1646. It was a day-to-day 
chronicle, and is trustworthy and methodical. His nephew used 
his Ms. in compiling his New England History ; Thomas Prince 
(1687-1758) drew from it materials for his "Universal History" ; 
later, it found its way into the archives of the Old South Church 
in Boston, which was sacked by the British in 1776; and finally, 
in 1853, it was discovered in an English library, and was copied 
and published in this country. Bradford was a fairly good writer, 
and far more modest than Captain John Smith. " I shall en- 
devor," he says, "to manifest [my subject] in a plane stile, with 
singular regard unto ye simple trueth in all things, at least as near 
as my slender judgement can attaine the same." And his " en- 
devor " was successful. 

Edward Winslow (1595-1655), a fellow-passenger with Brad- 
ford on the Mayflotver, kept a truthful and intelligent journal 
during the years 1620 and 1621, and was the author 
and "Good of three other works of a historical and historico-theo- 
Newsfrom logical character. He acted as diplomatic agent for 
land ^^' ^^ Colony to England, and was thrice elected gov- 
ernor. He died of a fever in the West Indies in 1655, 
after a somewhat romantic and active life. Some of Winslow's 
descriptions show keen observation, as for example, this of the 
" Great Sagamore, Masasoit " : "In his person he is a very lusty 
man, in his best years, an able body, grave of countenance, and 
spare of speech ; in his attire little or nothing differing from the 
rest of his followers, only in a great chain of white bone beads 
about his neck ; and at it, behind his neck, hangs a little bag 
of tobacco, which he drank, and gave us to drink. His face 



COLONIAL LITERATURE. 



was painted with a sad, red-like murrey, and oiled both head and 
face, that he looked greasily." 

The "History of New England from 1630 to 1649," by John 
Winthrop (1587-1649), first governor of Massachusetts, and, in 
1643, president of the United Colonies of New England, is less 
readable than Bradford's record, but is rhetorically its 
superior. Winthrop was of a somewhat aristocratic ^^^^^ ^^ 
temper, but firm and wise ; a magnanimous and faithful 
man. He was accused of undue exercise of power ; but he was 
vindicated from the charge, and his speech on that occasion (1645) 
is strong and able. He reminds 
the people that, by electing him 
to his office, they had invested 
him with a measure of Divine 
authority. Yet a magistrate is 
a man of like infirmities as other 
men. He covenants to govern 
according to God's law and 
man's, to the best of his skill. 
But if his skill prove inadequate, 
that is the electors' fault, not his. 
Only if the evil be in his will, 
can it be required of him. Lib- 
erty is of two kinds, natural and 
civil. " If you stand for some 

natural corrupt liberties, and will do what is good in your own 
eyes, you will not endure the least weight of authority . . . but 
if you will be satisfied to enjoy such civil and lawful liberties, 
such as Christ allows you, then will you quietly and cheerfully 
submit unto that authority which is set over you for your good. 
... So shall your liberties be preserved, in upholding the honor 
and power of authority amongst you." Sentiments like these have 
not yet become antiquated. 

In 1637, one Thomas Morton, known to history as Morton of 
Merry Mount, published "The New England Canaan," a book 
written in antagonism to the Puritan sentiment, and in sympathy 




John Winthrop. 



6 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

with the Indian. Its statements are untrustworthy, and its ani- 
madversions boisterous and coarse. But Morton was a natural 
reaction against the harsh bigotry of the New England colonists, 
and his book is, from that point of view, as genuine as any of 
theirs. He is not to be confounded with Nathaniel Morton 
(1612-16S5), a nephew of Governor Bradford's wife, and secre- 
tary of Plymouth Colony, whose " New England's Memorial " was, 
as has been already stated, based upon Bradford's journal. 

Of all the diarists of this epoch. Judge Samuel Sewall was the 
most diligent and the least tedious. He has been nicknamed the 

Puritan Pepys, which is to praise him too much ; 
l)oS^ ^ ^ though, it must be remembered, Boston under the 

Puritans was a less inviting subject than London under 
the Restoration. Born in 1662 and dying in 1730, he kept his 
daily record for no less than fifty-six years. It portrays, by a 
continuous series of small touches, a complete picture of the New 
England of the first quarter of the eighteenth century. Sewall 
was a personage of weight and credit in the community ; he was 
thrice married, and his personal character and habits, as they 
develop before us in the pages of the journal, are attractive and 
respectable. He wrote other books, but nothing else of perma- 
nent value. It is perhaps the only book of the Colonial period 
that can be read through with pleasure. 

Next to themselves, the Indians were an object of attention to 
the colonists. Determined efforts were made to convert and 

civihze them, or, failing that, to kill them. The efforts 
in our early in the latter direction were the more successful. But 
literature. g^^.^ vdtxi as Alexander Whitaker " did voluntarily 
leave their warm nests " in England and go forth to preach the 
Gospel to the savages. Whitaker, in his '' Good News from Vir- 
ginia" (1613), uttered an urgent call for help from his fellow- 
clergymen in the mother country ; and he lived to be called the 
Apostle of Virginia. Daniel Gookin, superintendent for thirty 
years of the Massachusetts Indians, incurred obloquy by defending 
some of them during King Philip's War. He wrote two books 
about them, though they were not published till two centuries 



COLONIAL LITERATURE. 7 

afterwards. Captain John Mason and Colonel Benjamin Church, 
Indian fighters both, described their adventures in writing ; and 
Mary Rowlandson and John Williams told the stories of their 
captivities among the heathen. 

But the noblest and most eminent friend of the Indian was John 
Eliot, the Apostle Ehot (i 604-1 690). He translated the entire 
Bible into the Algonkin language. " I have sometimes doubted," 
remarks Nathaniel Hawthorne, " whether there was more than a 
single man among our forefathers who realized that an Indian 
possesses a mind, and a heart, and an immortal soul. That single 
man was John Ehot. . . . Eliot was full of love for them, and 
therefore so full of faith and hope that he spent the labor of a 
lifetime in their behalf. . . . To learn a language Nathaniel 
utterly unlike all other tongues — a language which Hawthorne's 
hitherto had never been learned, except by the Indians Apostle 
themselves from their mothers' lips — a language never Eliot, 
written, and the strange words of which seemed inexpressible 
by letters — first to learn this new variety of speech, and then 
to translate the Bible into it, and to do it so carefully that not 
one idea throughout the holy book should be changed — this 
was what the Apostle Ehot did. . . . There is no impiety in be- 
Heving that, when his long hfe was over, the apostle of the Indians 
was welcomed to the celestial abodes by the prophets of ancient 
days and by those earliest apostles and evangelists who had drawn 
their inspiration from the immediate presence of the Saviour. 
They first had preached truth and salvation to the world. And 
Ehot, separated from them by many centuries, yet full of the same 
spirit, had borne the like message to the new world of the west. 
Since the first days of Christianity there has been no man more 
worthy to be numbered in the brotherhood of the apostles than 
Eliot." It seems "a grievous thing that he should have toiled so 
hard to translate the Bible, and now the language and the people 
are gone. The Indian Bible itself is almost the only relic of 
both." But '^ if ever you should doubt that man is capable of 
disinterested zeal for his brother's good, then remember how the 
Apostle Eliot toiled. And if you should feel your own self-interest 



8 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

pressing too closely upon your heart, then think of EHot's Indian 
Bible. It is good for the world that such a man has lived, and 
left this emblem of his hfe." 

It is needless to mention any more of the early chroniclers ; they 
may well be left to rest in their obscurity. Yet we may recall the 
name of William Stith of Virginia (1689-1755), third president of 
William and Mary College, a minister, and author of a " History 
of the First Discovery and Settlement of Virginia." Jefferson 
(quoted by Professor Richardson) concedes him classical learning, 
but says he has " no taste in style. He is inelegant, therefore, 
and his details often too minute to be tolerable, even to a native 
of the country whose history he writes. . . . His success," adds 
Professor Richardson kindly, " was not commanding, but it was 
respectable." 

As the consciousness of their peculiar historical attitude led to 
a multiplication of diaries among the colonists, so the conviction 
that they were, in a special manner, under the care and guidance 
of God prompted to the making of a quantity of theological 
writing. The Puritans were governed in both secular 
caiVriters. ^^^ sacred affairs by a numerous, intelligent, and mas- 
terful clergy, who rejoiced in religious polemics. But 
the learning, zeal and force displayed by these controversialists 
have not saved what they wrote from becoming obsolete. Nothing 
is of more evanescent interest than theological disputes. We of 
this age may be proud to inherit the independent spirit of our 
Puritan ancestors, but it is the working in us of that very spirit 
that has enabled us to outgrow their bigotry. Let us, however, 
glance at a few of the less intolerable volumes bequeathed to us 
by these venerable divines. 

A graduate of the English Cambridge, and for three years an 
incumbent of Cambridge in Massachusetts, Thomas Hooker 
(1586-164 7) finally founded, and settled in, Hartford, 
gins the Ust ^"^ ruled his flock there with a benevolent tyranny. 
with Twenty-three theological and religious treatises are 

twenty- ^j^^ ^^^^^ ^^ j^-g dispensation of fourteen years, during 

which his iron lungs pleaded with the Lord on behalf 



COLONIAL LITERATURE. 9 

of his congregation. His voice is hushed long since, and his treatises 
forgotten ; but he did his best, and was useful in his generation. 

A better-known Boanerges was John Cotton (1585-165 2), who. 
having been driven from Boston, England, by Archbishop Laud, 
received the compliment of having the town of Tri mountain in 
Massachusetts re-christened Boston in his honor. In politics, as 
well as in theology, he was a power : he was a sturdy and indomi- 
table champion of God and New England ; but the ^^^^ cotton 
written relics of him that have come down to us are with two- 
drier and more barren than his own mortal dust. Out ^*^°^^' 
of the twoscore works that he produced, only a few pages in the 
"New England Primer" have survived oblivion, and the Primer, 
rather than the pages, are to thank for even this immortality. 

Thomas Shepard and Urian Oakes were smaller copies of Cotton. 
The first is remembered because Jonathan Edwards quoted from 
him, and the other is credited by Professor Tyler with " the most 
brilliant examples of originality, breadth and force of thought, set 
aglow by flame of passion, to be met with in our sermon litera- 
ture from the settlement down to the Revolution." This is not 
saying much, but it is perhaps saying too much. The true pen- 
dant to Cotton was his great opponent, Roger Williams (1606- 
1683). 

Wilhams was a sincere and sensible apostle of a religious liberty 
wider than the Puritans were ready to concede. In the heat of 
the conflict between them and him, both sides no ^n apostle of 
doubt said and did more than Christian charity could true reiig:- 
warrant ; but Williams had in him the spirit of the ^°^^ liberty, 
future, and that future has rewarded him : he fought our fight as 
well as his own. In stating the truth, and stating it without 
regard to the consequences to himself, no one has surpassed Roger 
Williams. Concerning his two works, "The Bloody Tenet of Per- 
secution," and "The Bloody Tenet yet more Bloody," little in the 
way of literary eulogy can be said. They were abler than the 
pamphlets of his antagonists, Cotton and Fox. These forefathers 
of ours were bitterly in earnest, and were thus apt to attach too 
much weight to matters relatively unimportant. 



10 



AMERICAN LITERATURE, 



Increase 
Mather : 
ninety-two 
titles in his 
Ust. 



The Mather dynasty was the most noticeable clerical phenome- 
non of early New England. Richard Mather, the founder of the 
line, and Samuel Mather, its latest scion, need be men- 
tioned only ; but Increase Mather and his son Cotton 
were men of larger calibre. Increase (1639-1723) 
was for sixty years pastor of North Church, Boston ; 
during sixteen years he filled the office of president 
of Harvard ; and the new charter that he obtained for Massachu- 
setts made him the Warwick behind the gubernatorial chair. He 

was learned, sober, and accu- 
rate ; and curiously bound up 
in his massive character was 
a taste for the supernatural, 
which found literary expres- 
sion in the only noticeable 
work of his that has reached 
our day, " An Essay for the 
Recording of Illustrious 
Providences." It is a bun- 
dle of strange coincidences, 
escapes, punishments and 
ghost-stories, each bearing 
an obtrusive moral. The 
book served as a sort of introduction to the Salem witchcraft 
delusion, which ran its course a few years later. Its modern 
after-type, without the morals, is the " Phantasms of the Living," 
recently published by the English Society for Psychical Research. 
Few men have striven harder than Cotton Mather (1663-1728) 
to prove themselves worthy of a formidable ancestry ; and to add 
to his inherited responsibilities, his maternal grand- 
father was John Cotton. But he was more than a 
match for his burdens. He pubhshed over three hun- 
dred and eighty books ; Latin was to him as his native 
tongue ; he, like Bacon, took all knowledge to be his 
province ; he preached three and forty years ; he persecuted the 
witches ; he could be theological in half-a-dozen languages, chiefly 




Cotton Mather. 



Cotton 
Mather with 
three hun- 
dred eighty- 
three hooks. 



COLONIAL LITERATURE. 11 

dead ones ; he managed, patronized and dominated everybody ; 
and he was the author of '' Magnaha." This indescribable book, 
the most widely read pubHcation of its day, is a heterogeneous 
and polyglot compilation of information useful and useless, of 
unbridled pedantry, of religious adjurations, biographical anec- 
dotes, political maxims and theories of education. It was almost 
as interminable as it was comphcated. The author's aim in writ- 
ing it seemed to be to exhaust every topic famihar or unfamiliar 
to mankind. Indeed, it contains everything except order, accu- 
racy, sobriety, proportion, development and upshot. Professor 
Richardson, in his "American Literature," quotes a whole page 
from it. We will quote one passage from his quotation. The 
subject is Harvard College : " Lest all the Hellebore of New Eng- 
land (a countrey abounding with Hellebore) should not suffice 
to restore such dreamers unto their wits, it hath produced an 
university also, for their better information, their utter confutation. 
Behold, an American University, presenting herself, with her sons 
before her European mothers for their blessing. An university 
which hath been to these plantations, as Livy saith of Greece, Sal 
Gentium ; an university, which may make her boast unto the cir- 
cumjacent regions, like that of the orator on the behalf of the 
Enghsh Cambridge." Here follow six lines of Latin and a sen- 
tence of Greek ; but Mather's own EngHsh is the most formidable 
of the three. 

Samuel Willard, James Blair and John Wise were contempo- 
raries of Cotton Mather ; but their achievements are not sufficient 
to detain us here, though Professor Tyler gives enthusiastic praise 
to Wise's " Vindication of the Government of the New England 
Churches." The really important figure of the first half of the 
eighteenth century was Jonathan Edwards (1703-1757). He 
was a Yale graduate, and he devoted his literary career to the ap- 
plication of philosophy to religion. He was precociously learned, 
and lived an ardently studious and retired life ; he was a Calvinist ; 
indeed, he was more Calvinistic than Calvin. The spiritual cour- 
age with which he developed Calvin's theory is only surpassed by 
the masterly and (as many still think) the incontrovertible logic 



12 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Our great that he brought to its support. His " Freedom of 

metaphysi- ^j^^ ^y-jj n -^ g^ i^^^j^ g^-jj abreast of modern thought, 

cian. , ^ ° ' 

though by no means in accord with prevailing modern 

convictions. While maintaining that the will is not self-deter- 
mined, he asserts that man is responsible for his own evil ; and 
that since choice must precede a free act of will, therefore the 
freedom chosen is limited by the choosing. The dialectical sub- 
tlety of his arguments is inimitable, and his language is admirably 
succinct and lucid. " If the will," he says, "determines the will, 
then choice orders and determines the choice ; and acts of choice 
are subject to the decision, and follow the conduct, of other acts 
of choice. And, therefore, if the will determines all its own free 
acts, then every free act of choice is determined by a preceding 
act of choice, choosing that act. And if that preceding act of the 
will or choice be also a free act, then, by these principles, in *this 
act too, the will is self-determined : that is, this, in like manner, 
is an act that the soul voluntarily chooses ; or, which is the same 
thing, it is an act determined still by a preceding act of the will, 
choosing that. And the Uke may again be observed of the last- 
mentioned act, which brings us directly to a contradiction ; for it 
supposes an act of the will preceding the first act in the whole 
train, directing and determining the rest ; or a free act of the will 
before the first free act of the will." This is the Gordian knot of 
metaphysics ; not to be untied, but to be severed by the down- 
right blow of common-sense. 

Rhymes and verses are not uncommon in colonial literature ; 
true poetry is rare indeed. The wife of Governor Bradstreet was 

our first poet, — a Pattern and Patron of Virtue, as 
professional Jo^'^i^ Norton styles her in his funeral elegy. So she 
poet, I6I2- doubtless was ; but her epics and her minor verses 

are nevertheless but metrical prose ; and her opinions 
on the universe and its phenomena are not rendered more attrac- 
tive by rhymes. Michael Wigglesworth (i 631-1705) was the 
proper Laureate of Puritanism ; his " Day of Doom " expresses 
the merciless bigotry of the sect, and describes with bloodthirsty 
zest the terrors of the Last Judgment. " It will continue to be 



COLONIAL LITERATURE. 13 

read till the Day of Doom itself," declared Cotton Mather, look- 
ing up, for a moment, from his " Magnalia " ; but the day of its 
own doom passed long ago. 

Nicholas Noyes was a spinner of punning doggerel and of com- 
plimentary verses. In 1765, "Juvenile Poems on Various Sub- 
jects " was pubhshed in Philadelphia ; and in the same volume 
was ''The Prince of Parthia," a tragedy, not devoid of literary and 
dramatic merit. The author was Thomas Godfrey, a Philadel- 
phian; and with his death, at the age of twenty-seven, in 1763, 
ends (with one great exception) the record of pre- Revolutionary 
literature. That exception is Benjamin Franklin. 



14 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



II. 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

A FAMILIAR effect of striking events is to distort historical per- 
ception. Thanks to the national transfiguration wrought by the 
American Revolution, our Colonial period seems more remote 
from us than it really is. It is a measure of the greatness of Ben- 
jamin Franklin (1706-1700) that he bridges the gulf 
His position. :! , r- , • r / • i 1 j 

between the Colonies of the eighteenth century and 

the United States of the nineteenth. Though he was the charac- 
teristic figure of his age, we of to-day find him as "modern" as 
ourselves. Inasmuch as he embodied the leading traits of his 
contemporaries, he was their representative ; but he possessed, in 
addition, other qualities, which make him one of the men of all 
time. 

Franklin's character contained the causes that brought about 
the Revolution, and the forces that made it successful. The colo- 
A leader of ^^^^^ found in him the fulness of powers and tenden- 
the Revolu- cies that were as yet only germinating in themselves. 
*^°^* He served as the explanation of stirrings and impulses 

which they could feel, but not understand. Looking back, from 
our vantage-ground, upon the colonial situation of the middle of 
the eighteenth century, we easily perceive that their drift was 
towards independence. But all they were sure of was that they 
were discontented. To few minds of the pre-Revolutionary epoch 
did the vision of political emancipation unfold itself; and it is 
doubtful whether, but for Franklin, they would have beheved their 
own ears or trusted their own fate, when Destiny struck the hour. 
Seeing Franklin undaunted, however, they took courage ; the 
cheerful confidence with which he contemplated the plunge into 
the untried abyss, allayed their misgivings. The key-note once 
struck, to chime in was easy. Yet, had not the Revolution (as a 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



15 



step onward in human freedom and progress) been, as it were, 
latent in Franklin from the first, its issue might well have been 
different. 

His countrymen made all manner of drafts upon his intelli- 
gence, experience, manhood and patriotism ; and he promptly 
honored them all. He answered all appeals with answers of the 
pithiest and most practical stamp. His attitude towards his fellows 
was hke that of a benevolent pedagogue to his pupils. He told 
them what was best to do ; he would, if they desired it, take oft 
his coat and do it for them him- 
self. If they disbeUeved or diso- 
beyed him, he smiled with humor- 
ous compassion, foreseeing the rod 
that fate had in pickle for them. 
But he contrived often so to veil 
his advice as to make it seem the 
promptings of their own intelli- 
gence, — recognizing the truth 
afterwards formulated by Emer- 
son, that the way to lead men is 
to show yourself more clearly of 
their own opinion than they them- 
selves are. He was too wise to 
expect political gratitude, and too 
independent to care for it. 

The great man of a crisis knows what to do, and does it. 
Where others are bewildered, he is at home ; he seems to have 
been through it all before. He is like a being of a 
superior sphere, sent for his sins to spend a season on ^e^urces. 
this earth ; he yields his feebler companions such aid 
as they require, but with the air of the elder brother helping baby, 
— he will return to his own higher affairs presently. Not only is 
he equal to whatever emergency, but no demand seriously taxes his 
powers ; were it necessary, he could do ten times as much. Only 
by his death does he confess his human limitations ; and so broad 
and vigorous is his life, it seems cut prematurely short even when 



/' 




Benjar 



Franklin. 



16 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

(as in Franklin's case) his years have considerably exceeded three- 
score and ten. For Franklin was one of those who are larger 
than their environment. He bore vast burdens smilingly and 
lightly, and achieved great things without, as the phrase is, half 
trying. The more we investigate him, the more multifarious and 
indefatigable appear his activities. There was no part of nature, 
or of human nature, that he did not touch. 

Goethe, who was born forty-three years after Frankhn, and 
lived to nearly as great an age, has been called " the many-sided.'' 
The title no less aptly fits Franklin. Between him — the self- 
made, self-educated, practical man — and Goethe, the poet, to 
whom fortune gave all things, an interesting parallel might be 
drawn. It is to our immediate purpose only to remark that 
Goethe studied and wrote, but (in the active sense) did nothing ; 
whereas Franklin's career was all action ; what he wrote being 
merely incidental and ancillary to his activity. Goethe's fame 

and ambition were literary ; Franklin had no ambi- 
amMUon^ tion whatever, beyond satisfying his own curiosity and 

conscience. Literary distinction, at all events, was 
so far from being among his cravings that he never signed his own 
name to anything written for publication. For all he cared, the 
world might to this day be ignorant that he ever wrote a line. 

Nevertheless, Franklin had rare literary gifts. He could so 
marry words to things as to make them seem one ; he expressed 
positive thoughts and emotions, without ornament or amplification ; 

his style was the true reflection of his intellectual and 

moral stature. He was, it is true, the first American 
to cultivate the art of literary phrasing ; but this was an instinct 
of his temperament, which loved pith, point, clearness and homely 
symbolism. Where one man would observe that " It is best 
to make good use of another's folly," Franklin said, " Fools 
make feasts, and wise men eat them " ; and again, instead of 
grinding out such a platitude as " Bad hours and ill com- 
pany have ruined many fine young people," he drops the short, 
sharp hint, '' The rotten apple spoils his companion." These 
are little things, but they mark the vast difference between 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 17 

the thinking and the unthinking mind, — between the eye that 
can detect analogies in things outwardly diverse, and bind the 
universe together with cords of sympathy and understanding, and 
the eye that can see only isolated facts. 

Humor was another of Franklin's literary gifts, and literary, 
in his case, because it was first personal. It was not 
the thin, smirking artifice which is regarded as humor 
by some of our contemporary writers, and which is as carefully 
studied as a new dialect or a recondite title ; it was the native, 
ineradicable quality of the man, the natural armor of his strength, 
his worldly wisdom, his kindly human sympathy and his shrewd 
Yankee insight. Many a portentous predicament had he faced 
in his day, but he was never for a moment scared out of his humor. 
It forms the predominating flavor of his writings, which are almost 
always in earnest, but seldom quite solemn ; the demure twinkle 
of the eye is there, though the hasty or the foohsh miss it. It 
was sometimes a trifle broad for modern taste, but it is of itself 
enough to preserve his productions from oblivion. 

in perception of character and ability to portray it, he was 
singularly expert. When, in 1724, Franklin was sent to London 
by William Keith, on a fool's errand, Daniel Defoe was still alive ; 
Henry Fielding was a young blood, a year Franklin's junior; 
Smollett was a baby four years old. and Sterne a schoolboy of ten. 
Addison had died four or five years before, but Dick Steele was 
still carousing and writing in the taverns of Fleet Street, and Dean 
Swift still lacked something of his sixtieth year. Samuel Johnson, 
a clumsy, obstinate, scrofulous youth of fifteen, was studying as 
best he could in Litchfield. It is easy to forecast what Frankhn's 
career would have been had chance brought him in contact with 
the literary brotherhood of London at that period. He was only 
eighteen, and ready to turn his hand to anything. In genius he 
was at least the peer of any of the men above men- 
tioned, and had he settled down to write novels, for iJI^^l^^^* 
' ' nayeDeen. 

instance, it is more than hkely that his books would 

have been as good as "Tom Jones," "Humphrey Clinker" 

£Bd '•' Tristram ShandyJ' and that the American colonists might 



18 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

have claimed the honor of producing the greatest painter of human 

character since Shakespeare. But it so happened that the Boston 

boy, during his sojourn in the world's capital, never fell under the 

glance of eyes capable of recognizing his royal endowments. He 

returned to America after a year or two, to England's loss and our 

gain ; for not only did the mother country thus let slip between 

her fingers the man Franklin, but along with him, the ownership of 

the western half of the world. If she had offered the unknown 

youth a sum of money equal to half the amount of her national 

debt, on condition of his never leaving her shores, she would have 

bought him ridiculously cheap. She knew him better later on. 

Meanwhile, quite fortuitously, Franklin added several unforget- 

able figures to the populace of fiction. He created Silence Dogood, 

and Busybody, and Titan Pleiades, and Miss Polly Barker, and 

Richard Saunders, whose name has gone far, and who, so ably 

and consistently is he portrayed, is still by many taken to be 

Franklin himself. In truth, as a sensible critic has pointed out, 

this is a ludicrous misinterpretation of his large, bounteous, and 

benignant intelligence. " Poor Richard " is lodged in but a small 

. . corner of his mind. He is simply a delicious speci- 

An opinion ^ ^ ^ 

from E. P. men of humorous characterization in literature ; and 
Whipple. a ^^ groaning, droning way in which the good man 
delivers his bits of wisdom heightens their effect, as if he despair- 
ingly felt that his fellow-rustics would disregard them, and have 
their own experiences, insensible to the gasping, croaking voice 
that warns them in advance." 

But though Franklin is not to be identified with Poor Richard, 
nor with Father Abraham, nor with any of his numerous literary 
progeny, yet he stands behind them all ; and his own portrait, 
painted with desultory and unconscious touches through all the 
heterogeneous pages of his works, is his best contribution to the 
world of letters. This element of personal temperament, enter- 
ing, as it does, into all he wrote, brings all within the boundaries 

of literature, properly so called, no matter of how tran- 
offraphy^ " sient importance its nominal subject may be. His 

Autobiography is the most interesting of his works, 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 19 

because it is the longest : it reveals hardly more of its author than 
his pamphlets, essays and prefaces do. Such as it is, it has been 
called the best autobiography in the language, and, as literature, 
equal to "Robinson Crusoe." Comparisons of this kind have 
little value. 

Great though Franklin was, he cannot be classed among the 
very highest order of minds. He was destitute of the poetic 
genius, with all that this deficiency implies. To Goethe, poetry 
was everything ; it was nothing to Frankhn. Want- He lacked the 
ing that, he lacked the instinct of reverence ; he poetic genius 
was unspiritual ; he was insensible to the sublime ; tg^ze^s the^" 
grace and taste were not in him. Irreligious he was Mghest type 
not, though he was as far as possible from sounding of minds. 
the depths of religious experience so famihar to his contemporary, 
Jonathan Edwards. He formulated a creed to the effect that 
there is a God, that men should help one another, and that evil 
will bring its penalties ; and a code of moral rules, which is 
really the expression of the shape which his practical experience 
of vice had given to Franklin's character. Obviously, there were 
heights that he could never reach ; but he did not disquiet himself, 
therefore. He had no yearnings after the unattainable. He esti- 
mated himself at his true value ; yet, high though this estimate 
must inevitably have been, he was both ostensibly and actually 
one of the most modest of men. The reason doubtless was that, 
while recognizing his comparative superiority in knowledge and 
power over those with whom he came in contact, he realized none 
the less his own (and all other men's) absolute insignificance. 
Moreover, the complexities of his mind and character resulted, 
under the criticism of his austere self-culture, in a noble simplicity, 
with which any form of vanity was incompatible. 

Few men have lived so full a Hfe as he. Born the son of a poor 
candle-maker in Boston, after two years' schooling, and two more 
in his father's shop, where he read what books he could 
get hold of, he was bound apprentice at the age of ^^^^ 
twelve to his brother James, a printer ; and by the 
time he was fifteen, he was writing the "Dogood Papers" in "The 



20 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

New England Courant," modelling his style on that of Addison. 
A quarrel with his brother caused him to go to Philadelphia, and 
there (after the short trip to London already mentioned) he 
started a printing-office, estabUshed the "Pennsylvania Gazette," 
and finally, in 1732, began to issue "Poor Richard's Almanac." 
Ten years later his political life began : he wrote pamphlets and 
essays on the burning questions of the day ; and by the time he 
was forty-two, he had founded the University of Pennsylvania, sold 
his printing-house and newspaper, acquired a comfortable com- 
petence, and become interested in the study of electricity. He 
had lived just half his life, and now his name began to be heard 
beyond the limits of his own country. 

Pohtics, science and diplomacy, turn and turn about, occupied 
the rest of his career. He pleaded his country's cause abroad ; 
fought the malcontents, persuaded the stupid and encouraged the 
faint-hearted at home ; was insulted, slandered and idolized ; wrote 
satires, protocols, addresses and catechisms ; analyzed the hghtning, 
invented the lightning-rod and the stove ; and at length, on the out- 
break of the Revolution, was sent as ambassador to France, whither 
his fame had preceded him. The value of his services to the strug- 
ghng Colonies while in that position can never be estimated ; his 
sagacity, his tact, his unswerving purpose and patriotism, the unstud- 
ied dignity and charm of his manners, were only less effective than 
the armies of Washington in bringing the war to a fortunate close. 

In 1785, Congress reluctantly permitted him to return from 
France to the country he had done so much to create and pre- 
serve : he was then in his eightieth year. Europe followed him 
with farewells and compliments ; America welcomed him with 
triumphs and celebrations. He was the " Friend of Man," the 
" Father of American Independence." He was made President 
of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. His name was already 
signed to four of the most important documents of the century, — 
the Declaration of Independence, the Treaty of Alliance, the 
Treaty of Peace and the Constitution. He had been faithful and 
successful in all the duties of life. His essays, his apothegms and 
his Autobiography will never be effaced from the pages of Ameri- 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 21 

can literature. In his inventiveness, thrift, common sense and 
practicaHty he started out as the primal Yankee. He was great 
in more ways — more many-sided in his greatness than any other 
American before or since his time. His character is still the 
prototype of our most sohd virtues. Few men in their lifetime 
have been so honored as he ; and the century that has elapsed 
since his death has but deepened and broadened the respect and 
affection inspired by the memory of Benjamin Franklin. 



22 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



III. 
THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 

The American Revolution, so far as overt acts of war were 
concerned, began in 1775, and was over in 1783. But its direct 
effect upon American literature was not restricted to those seven 
years. Thoughtful men had been looking forward to some such 
event, and recording, in speech or writing, their views and specu- 
lations thereupon, long before it actually came to pass. And after 
peace had been declared with England, the patriotic soldiers and 
statesmen who had carried the country safely through its perils, 
still lived to mould and administer its government. We shall be 
within bounds, therefore, in specifying as the Revolutionary period 
of our literature the last thirty years of the eighteenth century. 

The war itself afforded just cause for a high level of thought 
and utterance. Its leaders were uniformly men not personally 
or selfishly ambitious, but actuated by a sincerely disinterested 

passion to benefit their country, and to vindicate hu- 
the^lTaders^ ^^^^ rights. They were also men of education and 
of the enlightenment — not demagogues, nor adventurers. 

American j^^ these respects they contrast favorably with many 

of the prominent figures of the English and the French 
Revolutions. Such persons as Washington, Jefferson, Adams and 
Hamilton would have commanded honor and respect, even had 
there been no accidental causes forcing them to fame and glory. 
The trials of national adversity showed them adequate to the 
demands made upon them : nor did they cope less successfully 
with the yet more difficult problems that presented themselves 
after the outside perils were past. The motives which precipi- 
tated the Revolution were pure and lofty ; and its results have 
been such as to command the homage of the world. 



THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 23 

But stirring events are not necessarily synchronous with notable 
achievements in literature. The more strongly human energy is 
stimulated, in a given state of things, in one direction, the less are 
apt to be its activities in other directions. Accordingly, we find, 
during the period now under consideration, that very little pure 
literature was produced in America. There were more good 
speeches than good writings ; and our knowledge of 
these speeches is derived mainly from fragmentary aweto^the 
hearsay reports, the modern art of short-hand report- writing: 
ing not being at that time in operation. The writings, \y^^\ 
again, are for the most part strongly political ; they 
are important for the ideas expressed rather than for the manner 
of the expression. They attracted, no doubt, wider attention 
than any previous American literary productions : but it was the 
attention, not of critics, but of statesmen and politicians. The 
department of belles-lettres received small cultivation, and what 
there was of it requires but the most passing mention. Notwith- 
standing, in short, the deep and world-wide political influence of 
our Revolution, the sum of its contribution to letters (with which, 
exclusively, we are here concerned) was, with few exceptions, 
undeserving of serious study. The time was to come, indeed, 
long decades after the smoke of the battle-field had cleared away, 
and the cannons' echoes ceased to reverberate, when the heroes 
and the events of our conflict for existence should receive fitting 
celebration in prose and rhyme. But, for the present, there were 
other and more urgent things to do : the student, the poet and 
the philosopher were merged in the statesman and the man of 
action. 

I. Belles- Lettres. Charles Brockden Brown (177 1-1810). 

Although, in point of time. Brown was the latest of the imaginative 
writers of this period, yet his merit entitles him (in accordance 
with the method we have adopted) to first mention. He was by 
birth a Philadelphia Quaker, of feeble physical constitution, and 
endowed with an introspective, impressionable and morbid habit 
of mind. He was a romancer by temperament and predilection ; 



24 AMERICAN LITERA TURE. 

but there were in those days no wealthy pubnshers nor patrons to 
remunerate and encourage his genius, and the hasty productions 
Unfavorable ^^ ^^^ obliged to put forth did less than justice to his 
conditions actual powers. Hampered as he was by ill-health, pov- 
orwor . ^xX.-^, the small number of readers (the population of 
the whole Union was but five milHons at the time of the publica- 
tion of his first romance) and the dearth of literary companions 
and native models, the chief marvel is that Brown producea any- 
thmg at all. Yet, in addition to a multiplicity of other literary 
work, he wrote in less than four years some half-dozen novels 
which are not yet forgotten, and which contain passages of power 
and imagination that not unworthily prefigure the masterpieces of 
Poe and Hawthorne. The best of these is perhaps " Wieland, or 
the Transformation," pubHshed in 1798; then followed rapidly 
"Ormond," "Edgar Huntly," "Arthur Mervyn," "Clara How- 
ard" and "Jane Talbot." Horror, mystery and psychological 
analysis are the elements in which he loves to deal ; his subjects 
are strongly conceived and ingeniously designed, but the execu- 
tion is apt to be inadequate and crude^, and there is often a lack 
of art in the management of the plot. Thus, in " Wieland," we 
have the father of the hero killed by some appalling and appar- 
ently supernatural agency, the mother destroyed by the shock of 
the bereavement, Wieland himself induced by signs and omens 
to strangle his wife and murder his children, and finally to commit 
suicide. The atmosphere of the book is full of awful mystery, 
enhanced by a solemn and lofty style. Yet, at the close, v/e dis- 
cover that all these ghastly events have been brought 
of hiTwork ^-bout by no more dignified agency than ventriloquism. 
Such a turn is fatal from the artistic point of view; 
and " Wieland " is but a type, in this respect, of the other ro- 
mances. Brown took more interest in his plots than in his char- 
acters. The latter are but the mouthpieces and puppets of events. 
The author's conceptions of human nature, its passions, powers 
and frailties, seem to have been gained by introspection rather 
than by objective study and insight. He speculated on the basis 
of himself, but he had small practical experience of the world, 



THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 25 

His work, at its best, is consequently narrow in scope even when 
it is most impressive. At its worst, it tends to extravagance and 
bathos. But we must concede him intensity, originaUty and 
imagination, so combined as to entitle him to the name of 
genius. 

Brown was precocious and industrious. In his early youth he 
planned three epics, kept a journal, wrote essays and studied 
foreign languages. After a season of reading law in His literary 
his native city, he composed a dialogue on the rights industry and 
of women called " Alcuin," and produced, besides his ^^** ^^' 
romances, a work on " General Geography," a number of pohtical 
pamphlets, of which that on "The Cession of Louisiana" passed 
through two editions, and many minor poems, short tales, bio- 
graphical essays and critiques. Furthermore, he published, edited 
and was the chief contributor to three periodicals : " The Monthly 
Magazine and American Review," 1799 ; "The Literary Magazine 
and American Register," 1803; and the "American Register," 
1 803-1 806. Truly he was a man of letters, in the fullest sense of 
the phrase ; and though consumption ended his career at the age 
of thirty-nine, he had his share of the labor of life. 

Philip Freneau (i 752-1832) lived to more than twice the age 
of Brown, but, with the exception of one imaginative poem, " The 
Home of Night," wrote nothing of more than temporary value. 
But his political, humorous, and society verses were voluminous, 
and, in their way and for their time, telhng and entertaining. His 
perceptions were quick, his feelings lively, he wrote -^rapidly and 
heedlessly ; but now and then he struck a true note or expressed 
a memorable thought. He was French by descent, and had the 
versatihty and sentiment of his race. Such men as Adams, Jefifer- 
son, Monroe, Franklin and Madison were among his friends, and 
helped to render him a conspicuous figure. Besides " The Home 
of Night," Freneau's best remembered poems are the " College 
Examination," " Eutaw Springs " and " The Indian Student." His 
"' Lines to a Wild Honeysuckle " are quoted by one of his critics 
as an example of sincerity and delicacy. 



26 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

Francis Hopkinson (i 737-1 791), by his "Battle of the Kegs," 
did much to put British pretensions in an odious and ridiculous 
light; and his son Joseph (1770-1842) was the author of the 
national ode " Hail Columbia," which, though devoid of literary 
value, has fully served its patriotic purpose. 

John Trumbull (i 750-1831) was another poet of many years 
and limited talent. He is chiefly known by his Hudibrastic poem, 
"McFingal," which appeared in fragments from 1775 to 1782. 
It was immensely popular in its day, running through thirty edi- 
tions, and, as a satire on the Tories, may be considered one of 
the forces of the Revolutionary period. It " sent the rustic volun- 
teers laughing into the ranks of Washington and Green," and is 
scarcely inferior in vigor and humor to " Hudibras " itself: indeed, 
many of its couplets are still quoted as from the older poem. 

Timothy Dwight (1752-1817), a descendant of Jonathan 
Edwards, was the author of a poem in eleven books called " The 
Conquest of Canaan," which is correct and decorous in form, but 
destitute of poetic value. Dr. Dwight was president of Yale Col- 
lege, a Latin scholar, a theologian, and a patriot ; but a poet he 
could not be. His "Greenfield Hill," a pastoral, is perhaps less 
dreary than his epic; his "America" and "The Triumph of In- 
fidelity " are unknown. 

Joel Barlow (1 753-1812) is described as having raised medi- 
ocrity to colossal dimensions. His "The Columbiad," an inter- 
minable epic, is perhaps the most stupendous and unmitigated 
failure in the annals of literature ; and it is almost as pretentious 
as it is worthless. But a mock-heroic production of his called 
" Hasty Pudding " was popular in its day, and has lately been 
reprinted. 

Royall Tyler (i 758-1826) was the author of the first Ameri- 
can play ever acted in the United States — " The Contrast, a 
comedy," 1786. It had some merit, and contained, among its 
characters, the prototype of the now familiar stage Yankee. 



THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 11 

John Howard Payne (1792-185 2) wrote upwards of sixty 
plays, among them " Brutus," which is still remembered. But 
the author of " Home, sweet Home " can scarcely be said to 
belong to the literary period we are considering. 

William Dunlap (i 766-1839) was a voluminous dramatist, 
now deservedly forgotten. 

2. Moral and Theological. Thomas Paine (1737-1809^, as 
an exponent of religious views, had a position in his day some- 
what similar to that of Robert Ingersoll with us. He made a 
determined and vigorous attack upon a faith of whose true 
character he was ignorant. He was devoid of IngersoU's 
quick wit and poetic genius ; but he had his rough and ready 
knowledge of human nature, his love of destruction, his hard 
common- sense, his spiritual color-bHndness, and, perhaps, more 
than his earnestness. As in IngersoU's case, too, the consterna- 
tion which his attacks upon religion produced among clergymen 
and church members greatly increased his weight and importance 
as an "infidel." His "Age of Reason" is a shallow production, 
but it had its effect when it was written. Religion, it need hardly 
be said, sustained no permanent injury at Paine's hands ; on the 
other hand, his country had reason to be grateful to him for his 
vigorous " Common-Sense " pamphlet, and his tracts on " The 
Crisis," all of which reached a vast circulation. It was he who 
said, " These are the times that try men's souls." In France he 
pubHshed a rejoinder to Burke's criticism of the French Revolu- 
tionists, called "The Rights of Man," an able and effective produc- 
tion, which secured him the ardent friendship of the French people. 
The style of his various writings is simple, sarcastic and powerful. 

3. Political. Thomas Jefferson (i 743-1826). After the 
close of the war, the need of a government strong enough to 
raise revenue and conduct business was severely felt, jj^g consti- 
Each of the members of the confederacy of states had tution sup- 
a government of its own, and the National Congress Vt^Yt^tr?!- ^ 
lacked power to control or harmonize them. A ist" papers. 



28 



AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 




Thomas Jefferson, 



meeting of representatives of all the states was called, and, 
after three months' dehberation, the Constitution of the United 
States was drawn up. Its appearance divided the people into 
two parties, known as FederaUsts and Republicans. The former 
supported the Constitution; the latter 
opposed it, and advocated greater inde- 
pendence of individual states. Much 
discussion followed : arguments in favor 
of the Constitution were ably presented 
by a publication called " The Federal- 
ist," written by Alexander Hamilton, 
James Madison and John Jay. The 
Constitution was ultimately adopted. 

Jefferson was the most eminent and 
influential man of the party from which 
the Democratic party of our day is de- 
scended. Of Scotch and Welsh extrac- 
tion, Virginia was his native state. He acquired ^ broad and 
scholarly education, and had exceptional natural gifts. He had a 
cold, comprehensive intellect : his nature was self- 
^^sc arac- contained, but persistent. His temper was equable, 
under the control of the will ; in manner he was 
urbane, conciliatory, unpretentious, and yet dignified. There was 
much subtlety in his character ; his diplomacy gained many ends 
that force could not have reached. 

Jefferson was preeminently a writer. His speeches were not 
effective, nor was he strong in administration ; but in the seclusion 
of his study or office, with a pen in his hand, his power and 
ability were unequalled. He was profoundly learned 
in the theory and practice of government ; his writings 
and career show him to have been one of the broadest 
and most consistent democrats of any age. He wrote 
the Declaration of Independence in 1776, the most 
famous work ever produced by an American writer. His influ- 
ence is apparent in the moulding of the Constitution, and the 
versatihty and persuasiveness of his genius are conspicuous in his 



A great fig- 
ure in the 
formative 
period of the 
nation. 



THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD, 29 

correspondence. His letters, indeed, did much to form and fur- 
nish forth the party which, for fifty years, was dominant in the 
country ; and to this day the party acknowledges no authority so 
great as his. Men of mental calibre equal to his were not to be 
found, even in that age of able and energetic patriots ; and his 
countrymen, recognizing the need of a clear-headed, far-sighted 
pilot at the helm, twice in succession elected him to the highest 
office in their gift. Although his writings had no distinctively 
literary or artistic aim, but were put forth to meet and deal with 
each occasion as it came, their interest and value often outlasted 
the circumstances that elicited them ; and many of them may 
still be studied with profit. His Autobiography is a lucid and 
temperate piece of work, less captivating and characteristic than 
Franklin's, but rich in succinct narrations and philosophical reflec- 
tions. "I have sometimes asked myself," he says, "whether my 
country is the better for my having lived at all. I have been the 
instrument of doing the following things, but they would have been 
done as well by others ; some of them perhaps a little better." 
He goes on to enumerate the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence, the Demolition of the Church Establishment, mate of what 
the Act putting an end to Entails, the Act prohibiting ^^ i^ad ac- 
importation of Slaves, and the Act for apportioning p is e . 
Crimes and Punishments. These are important services ; and in 
default of " some one who might have done them better," the 
American people are grateful to Jefferson for having done them 
so well. 

John Adams (i 735-1826). The Puritan temperament was 
strongly emphasized in this son of Massachusetts, but its fearless 
and indomitable energy was in him addressed to poli- 
tics instead of to religion. He could not be at ease patriot. 
either in the pulpit or at the bar; but the obvious 
dangers threatening his country drew him to its defence as inev- 
itably as the magnet attracts iron. He scented the battle-field 
afar off, and was already arming himself, and shouting defiance at 
the foe, before most of his comrades had realized that any serious 



30 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



trouble was at hand. Adams's brain was capacious, his nature 
vehement, his temper impatient and irritable. He seems to have 
felt a stern joy in battle, and to have taken as much pleasure in 
sacrificing his personal safety and fortune for the sake of the 
public good, as other men might take in lining their wallets and 

exalting their horns. The methods 
and science of government also had 
a strong attraction for him ; and he 
acted a vital part in the organ- 
ization, conduct and advocacy of 
democratic institutions. The Revo- 
lutionary period bears throughout 
the deep stamp of his individuaHty ; 
and his political insight often fore- 
told events and prepared for emer- 
gencies. As a writer, he was copious, 
careful and weighty. His diary, kept 
from 1755 to 1785, contains the 
record of many important events, graphically described ; and his 
private letters show a largeness of view and a force of expression 
that recall the style of the historian. He was a con- 
work, tributor to the newspapers of the time, and was the 
author of several essays or pamphlets on matters of 
public moment. English oppression had no foe more resolute 
and radical than he ; and when, in after years, he was sent to 
London on a diplomatic mission, George the Third welcomed 
him with the courtesy of one who recognizes and respects a 
sturdy adversary. He was successful in his errand, though his 
character was wholly opposed to the shifts and disguises of 
diplomacy. The style of his writing is in the main forcibly argu- 
mentative, sometimes rising to impassioned heights of rhetoric. 
In general usefulness to his country and in the lofty purity of 
his conduct, John Adams may take his place beside Washington. 




John Adams. 



Alexander Hamilton (1757-1804) was born in the West In- 
dies, and came to America at the age of fifteen. He early acquired 



THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD, 



31 



the habit of systematically writing out his thoughts ; and during 
his school days he tried his hand at poetry, with no memorable 
result. In the midst of his collegiate course the war broke out ; 
he joined the army and was taken on Washington's staff. He re- 
mained in the field long enough to show the possession of abundant 
personal courage, and fair military ability ; but his destiny was to 
be a ruler, not a soldier. In the formative period that succeeded 
the defeat of the British forces, he took rank among 
the greatest of the statesmen who laid the foundations genius. 
of our government. Our national banking system, and 
the protective tariff on manufactures, are policies of which he is the 
author. He was the advocate, and in many cases the originator, 
of the principles upon which the Republican party of our day is 
founded. As Secretary of the Treasury under Washington, he 
showed such wonderful constructive power as to win, years later, 
from Webster a passage of eulogy that has become famous. The 
faculties of his mind were as well balanced as they were capacious 
and powerful ; he penetrated to the root of things, comprehended 
their mutual relations, and was fertile in expedients to turn them 
to the best advantage. No emer- 
gency found him at a loss, and his 
creative intellect brought victory out 
of disaster. The symmetry of his 
nature and the genuine modesty of 
his character veiled the extent and 
power of his resources ; he sought not 
his own prosperity, but that of the 
measures in which he beheved, and 
was careless though others got the 
credit of his success. Practical in 
his objects and clear in their ex- 
pounding, he conquered opposition, 
partly by lucid and temperate reason- 
ing, and partly by a magnetic force of intellectual passion. In 
his private intercourse he was courteous, gentle and winning ; the 
superior of almost all, he desired to place all men on an equality 
with himself 




Alexander Hamilton. 



32 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



His fame as a writer rests chiefly on his essays in the " Federal- 
ist," in support of the Constitution. His own plan was for a 
stronger, more centralized government than the proposed Con- 
stitution provided : but, the convention having made 
His papers , . 

supporting its choice, no one was more zealous or effective in 

the Constitu- urging its adoption by the states. In support of it 
his fifty-one " Federahst " papers were written ; and 
the arguments brought forward for this purpose, are, perhaps, the 
most powerful and cogent the times produced, and have left little 
for subsequent times to add. 

In construing the provisions of the Constitution, Hamilton 
always leaned toward strengthening the federal power ; and always 
opposed to him on this ground stood his great rival, Jefferson ; 
and to these two men more than to others is due the greatness of 
the nation which Washington gave into their hands. 

That Alexander Hamilton, in the fulness of his powers, should 
have fallen, practically murdered, at the hands of Aaron Burr — 
the most evil and detestable name that stains our early annals — 
is one of the tragedies of history. 

James Madison (i 75 i-i 836) was one 
of the great Virginians of his epoch, — 
a graceful, somewhat undemonstrative, 
thoughtful figure, accused in his lifetime 
The Father ^^ personal selfishness and 
of the Con- political timidity. He did 
stitution. g^^j^ important service in 
shaping and defending the Constitution 
that he was called its "Father." He 
was an earnest and effective advocate 
of the cause of religious freedom. He 
was adroit and argumentative : his na- 
ture was colder than his intellect — the 
opposite of Jefferson's case. He was moderate, from inability to 
throw his whole heart into his work ; he perceived more than he 
felt. The principle upon which the Southern States based their 




THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 33 

withdrawal from the Union in i860 was first expressed by Madison 
in the ''Resolution of '98," drafted by him, and passed by the Vir- 
ginia Legislature, declaring that the Federal Constitution was a 
compact between sovereign states, and that in case of a violation 
of the compact each party to it had "an equal right to judge for 
itself, as well of infractions as of the mode and measure of redress." 
Madison wrote twenty-nine of the " Federahst " papers, and 
upon them is founded his literary reputation. His style lacks 

imaginative charm : it is hisfh-sounding and mechani- „. ,,^ , 
° ^ ° His ' ' Fed- 

cal and sometimes deficient in clearness. But there eraiist " 
is a grave and well-considered purpose apparent in p^p^^^. 
many Of his papers ; and upon the audience he addressed they 
produced a weighty effect. 

John Jay (i 745-1 829). Webster's comment upon Chief- 
Justice Jay was, that " the spotless ermine of the judicial robe, 
when it fell on the shoulders of John Jay, touched nothing not as 
spotless as itself." Whipple remarks that " his integrity ran down 
into the very roots of his moral being, and honesty 
was with him a passion as well as a principle. A great . ^^^^ 
publicist, as well as an incorruptible patriot, with pro- 
nounced opinions which exposed him to the shafts of faction, his 
most low-minded adversaries felt that his private and public char- 
acter were unassailable." He gave steady and powerful support 
to the constitutional government, and negotiated the famous treaty 
with England which so excited the resentment of the Democratic 
party. He was the third and last of the eminent trio who con- 
tributed to the " Federahst," five of the essays in which are from 
his pen. Though his mind was not properly imaginative, the 
intensity of his sentiments sometimes gave to his compositions a 
quality of lofty imagery. In an appeal to the states of the Con- 
federation, impelled by the depreciated state of the currency, and 
the injuries wrought thereby, he uses this language : " Humanity 
as well as justice makes this demand upon you. The complaints 
of ruined widows, and the cries of fatherless children, whose whole 
support has been placed in your hands and has melted away. 



34 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

have doubtless reached you; take care that they ascend no 
higher ! " Such words are true Hterature, though written by one 
whose energies were directed in other than Hterary channels. 

Fisher Ames (i 758-1808), though known to us only as a 
political orator and newspaper writer, was one of the most poetical 
minds of his age. His language avoids sonorous and pretentious 
words, but is rich in tropes and metaphors, which stimulate the 
A poetic attention and aid the apprehension of the reader. The 

style of simple words are the result of studious self-control; 

oratory. ^^ figurative expression is the native temperament of 

the man. The effect is of power well in the leash, and more im- 
pressive for the restraint. He was a passionate Democrat, and 
the New England Federalists regarded him as their champion 
advocate. His poetic susceptibility made him quick to read the 
hearts of his audience, and his natural eloquence enabled him to 
nobly formulate their deepest convictions. His comprehensive 
grasp of events and ideas empowered him to clothe in a memor- 
able phrase a whole volume of political wisdom. But, with all his 
beauty and earnestness, he lacked the massive individuality, the 
overwhelming torrent of feeling, the towering strength that should 
be within the scope of the greatest statesman. His support of 
Federalism did not save it from decay, though it was destined to 
revive again in after years. His speeches have a despairing note 
in them, not the rejoicing assurance of the man conscious of 
strength greater than that of circumstance. His career had 
no lasting influence ; yet he has a place in the history of our 
literature. 

James Otis (i 725-1 783) was a learned and affluent speaker, 
one of the vanguard of Massachusetts orators. His speech, in 

1760, against the writs authorizing a search for dutiable 
of Fire." goods, was a brilliant effort. Adams declared that it 

gave birth to the idea of American independence. 
Otis had the voice and the eye of eloquence, as well as the neces- 
sary mental qualifications, and he aroused enthusiasm wherever he 



THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. 



35 



appeared. His private character was marred by vanity and im- 
periousness, and he developed eccentricities which finally culmi- 
nated in insanity. He can hardly be termed a writer, and we 
know his speeches by the effects they produce rather than in 
themselves. His pamphlet on the " Rights of the British Colo- 
nists " is probably his best literary production. 



Patrick Henry (i 736-1 799). The fire and splendor of the 
South were in the utterances of this Virginian, whose awkward 
body and country training seem only to have enhanced 
the effect of his eloquence. His speeches had an ex- qj-^^qj. 
traordinary vividness, and no speaker of his day is so 
widely quoted in our time as Henry. He expressed honesty as 
well as passion, and strong practical ability lay behind his words. 
He prepared the minds of the people for the inevitableness of 
war, and was active in devising measures to meet it when it came. 



Samuel Adams (i 722-1803), cousin of John Adams, antici- 
pated even the latter in his perception of the storm that was to 
burst over the Colonies. '' He was," says Nathaniel 




Hawthorne, "a man of 



An ancient 
Puritan. 



great note in all the 
doings that brought about the Revo- 
lution. His character was such, that 
it seemed as if one of the ancient 
Puritans had been sent back to 
earth to animate the people's hearts 
with the same abhorrence of tyranny 
that had distinguished the earliest 
settlers. He was as religious as they, 
as stern and inflexible, and as deeply 
imbued with democratic principles. 
He, better than any one else, may 
be taken as a representative of the 
people of New England, and of the spirit with which they engaged 
in the Revolutionary struggle. He was a poor man, and earned 



Samuel Adams. 



36 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

his bread by a humble occupation ; but with his tongue and pen 
he made the king of England tremble on his throne." Samuel 
Adams had the distinction of being the only man excepted from 
the amnesty offered to the patriots by England in 1774. His 
writings were numerous, but have never been collected ; they are 
to be found in rare pamphlets, and in the files of ancient news- 
papers. But the character of the man is in his words, as his words 
were the expression of his acts and convictions. 

Josiah Quincy (1744-17 75) died of consumption just as the 
war broke out, but the enthusiastic patriotism of his writings justify 
A man who ^^^ ^^§^ reputation among the youth of Massachusetts. 
appealed to "To hope for the protection of Heaven," he said, 
°^®^* " without doing our duty, and exerting ourselves as 

becomes men, is to mock the Deity. However righteous our 
cause, we cannot, at this period of the world, expect a miraculous 
salvation. Heaven will undoubtedly assist us, if we act like men." 
These were right sentiments, and it was in obedience to such sen- 
timents that Quincy's friend Warren fell at Bunker Hill. 



PIONEER PERIOD, 37 



IV. 

PIONEER PERIOD. 

Eittng, (loopcr, ^oe. 

The political writings and speeches which we have just con- 
sidered form, in the aggregate, an important and unique body of 

literature. A new nation was cominsj to birth, not, 

,., , , ^ , . . ., , - Our country 

like the other nations oi history, insensibly and un- the incarna- 

designedly, but at the dehberate summons of an tion of a 

lof tv 1(163.1 

abstract moral and political idea. The United States 
was the conscious incarnation of a lofty ideal ; and the men who 
conceived and formulated this ideal, and, later, carried out in 
practical detail its various parts, were inspired even beyond their 
natural genius to explain, justify and advocate the steps of theiy 
achievement. Great emergencies arouse men's latent greatness ; 
the need for heroism makes heroes. The stress of the Revolu- 
tionary period elicited from those who underwent it an assem- 
blage of treatises on human rights and government never surpassed 
in breadth, depth and freshness, and for the intellectual equivalent 
of which we must go back to the days of Greece and Rome. 

But with the first decade of the nineteenth century, the stress 
was relaxed, and it began to be possible to breathe some other 
atmosphere than that of war and politics. This was 
the moment, in the reaction from sterner preoccupa- ^^^^ ^^^ ^ 
tions, for the budding forth of a new literature — a 
literature having its source not in the world of concrete facts and 
actual events, but in that of imagination and reflection ; a Htera- 
ture, in short, which should exist as an end in itself, and not as a 
mere transcript of contemporary circumstances. And it was at 
this moment, accordingly, that the literature appeared. 

As is apt to be the case at periods of renaissance, it was a vigor- 



38 AMERICAN LITERA TURE. 

ous, an independent and an original literature. The writers who 
began to write, or who were born, at the beginning of the century, 
were our leading writers in quality as well as in time. They have 

with them the freshness and energy of the morn- 
The dawn. 

ing. They were the pioneers, and they inhaled inspi- 
ration with the virgin atmosphere. Unhampered by "schools," 
undaunted by predecessors and traditions, they dared to be 
themselves, and rejoiced in their strength. A new era in the 
development of man had commenced, and they were its prophets. 
Nothing produced by their successors has the same charm of 
spontaneity and novelty. 

Following this renaissance came an era — that of Clay, Web- 
ster and Calhoun — when pohtics once more assumed a promi- 
nent place in the public eye. Slavery and State Rights were 
discussed, and the problems incident to the opening up of the 
Continent pressed for consideration. A subordinate departure of 
Evolution of literature was in the direction of a multiform senti- 
ouriitera- mentalism. Dealers in all manner of moral, social 
*"^®' and political nostrums appeared ; a storm of vague 

and futile theories obscured the air, and the American mind, 
distracted and, for the moment, emasculated, expressed itself 
in books which faithfully reflected its unhealthy and enfeebled 
tone. This lasted till the breaking out of the Civil War. The 
literature which has come into existence since then is too hetero- 
geneous, both in form and quality, to be labelled in a few phrases ; 
but its general characteristics are overfinish and conventionality, 
and the need of a new, unhackneyed inspiration is acutely felt. 
Let us now return to the Pioneers. 

Washington Irving (1783-1859) was the first in the field; 
although, as we have seen, Charles Brockden Brown preceded 
him. But Brown never set his feet on solid earth ; he hovered in 
a murky air of his own creation, and his romances had no real 
relation to the land or the time in which he lived. Irving pos- 
sessed the rare and invaluable endowment of a thoroughly healthy 
nature : nothing bitter, morbid or sensational ever came from 



PIONEER PERIOD. 39 

him. He was a spontaneous optimist : he decHned to look upon 
the gloomy and sinister side of life. His intellectual 
ship was not a vessel of deep draught ; but her lines ^^ charac- 
were graceful, her sails white, her movement light- 
some, and she sailed on summer seas : and the hand upon her 
helm ever steered her towards the Happy Isles. Yet it must not 
be inferred that Irving's personal experience was all ease and sun- 
shine. One deep grief he had — deep and lasting: one irksome 
and protracted annoyance : and his physical health, never very 
robust, was at the outset of his career so delicate as to threaten 
a fatal issue. But he met these misfortunes with undemonstra- 
tive but manly courage ; nor was he spoiled or vulgarized by the 
brilliant success that greeted all his literary productions. On 
the contrary, it surprised and almost intimidated him ; he 
could not beUeve that his work was so excellent as the public 
declared it to be. This, no doubt, was because the work was the 
genuine and unforced product of his temperament, which was 
normally literary; he could not gauge a quality so intimate to 
himself Humor, ranging from playful to broad, was a prominent 
feature of his writings ; and allied with it was a sincere and refined 
vein of pathos. His observation was accurate and graphic, his 
perception of character picturesque and sympathetic, his judg- 
ment sane and serene. His mind was creative, though not on a 
profound scale : he was wanting in the constructive faculty ; and 
there were regions of human nature which he made no attempt to 
explore. But in his own gentle and charming sphere he was 
altogether admirable ; and he proved his good sense by not trying 
to achieve what was beyond him. *' My writings," he said, " may 
appear light and trifling in our country of philosophers and poli- 
ticians ; but if they possess merit in the class of literature to 
which they belong, it is all to which I aspire." His genius was 
that of the sketcher rather than the painter; but it was a true 
and virile genius, and it seldom went seriously astray. Indeed, 
almost the only fault really ascribable to Irving is an occasional 
thinness of touch, noticeable especially in his sentimental pas- 
sages. But, however thin, his sentiment is not false nor sickly; 



40 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

while his humorous passages, never far to seek, are full of body 
and brilliance. 

Washington Irving owes his given name to the fact that he was 
born, in New York, some five or six months before General Wash- 
ington entered the city on its evacuation by the British troops under 
Sir Guy Carleton. " Washington's work is ended : the child shall be 

named after him," said his mother. The boy, though 
life^^^^ delicate, overflowed with lively spirits, and was obliged 

to resort to stratagem to get the fun his nature 
clamored for. For his father was a Scotch Presbyterian, vvith the 
severity and rigidity of the old Covenanters in his domestic 
methods and notions. He acted upon the theory that anything 
entertaining must be wrong. Washington's mother, however, was 
an English woman of sweet and gentle character ; and since he 
was the youngest of eleven children, he was indulged and protected 
by his elder brothers and sisters. His fragile constitution also con- 
tributed to his freedom. His schooling was desultory, and he never 
was a hard student. He rambled over Westchester County, made 
excursions up the Hudson and did substantially what he pleased. 
The most important result of his experience in the law-office of 
Jeremiah Ogden Hoffman was the acquaintance it brought about 
between him and Hoffman's daughter, with whom he fell in love, 
but who died of consumption before they could be married. 
This was Irving's great grief, and it may be said that he never wholly 
got over it. At all events, he remained all his life unmarried. On 
the other hand, he was all his life very susceptible to female influ- 
ence, and his chivalrous devotion to women as women is one of his 
most agreeable traits. Nor were women less attracted to him. A 
His manner "^^^^ winning personage than the young Irving was not 
and appear- easily to be found. ' Of medium height and rounded 
a^ce. figure, his finely shaped head was covered with wavy 

dark brown hair. A high, full forehead and delicate eyebrows 
overshadowed deep gray eyes, which sparkled with humor and 
softened with feeling. His nose was finely moulded, his mouth 
refined, his chin strong. An agreeably modulated voice and a 
delightful smile enhanced the graces of his person. His character 



PIONEER PERIOD. 41 

was the complement of his appearance. A woman who knew him 
well describes him as being thoroughly a gentleman, both in man- 
ner, and to the core of his heart. He was sweet-tempered, gentle, 
sensitive, gay and humorous ; gifted with warm affections ; bright, 
easy and abundant in conversation, and an invariably interesting 
companion. Indeed, Irving, though born to literature, was never 
in the least Bohemian. He belonged to the best, most cultivated 
society ; and wherever he went, at home or abroad, the best 
society welcomed and caressed him. 

At the age of twenty-one, after contributing a few satirical let- 
ters to a local newspaper over the signature of " Jonathan Old- 
style," Irving went abroad for his health, and made the "grand 
tour." He made the acquaintance of several notable people, and 
indulged his fondness for the stage by studying Kemble and Mrs. 
Siddons. Returning home, after two years, in 1806, he was ad- 
mitted to the bar, only to neglect it for the follies of gilfji-st 
society with the congenial young men and women literary 
of the day. With the cooperation of his brother ^^^^ures. 
William and his friend Paulding, he brought out a semi-monthly 
periodical, " Salmagundi," which ran through twenty successful 
numbers, and attempted, as the prospectus put it, "simply to 
instruct the young, reform the old, correct the town, and castigate 
the age." The papers, in the Addisonian style, were witty and 
humorous, but the authors seem to have tired of them before the 
readers did, for they voluntarily discontinued the periodical. It 
was soon after this that the sad issue of Irving's love affair took 
place ; but, in order to relieve the sorrow that weighed upon him,, 
he kept at work upon an enterprise that he and his brother Peter 
had begun a little while before. This was a burlesque or comic 
history of the early settlement of New York, and was entitled 
"A History of New York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker." 

The book was published in 1809, and was immediately success- 
ful. It had been heralded by paragraphs in the papers referring 
to its supposititious author, couched in a tone so serious as to 
mislead many. In fact, a first hasty glance through the pages 
seems to have given some persons the impression that it was the 



42 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

bona fide history that it pretended to be ; but the satire, as a rule, 
was at once perceived, and enjoyed with an intensity of apprecia- 
tion never before aroused by an American book, and dissented 
from only by a few old persons of both sexes and of Dutch descent, 
who were enraged and scandalized at sport made of their levered 
ancestors. The first effect of the book was to excite irresistible 
merriment ; but, as time went on, more critical judgment found 
it rich in literary merits which had been obscured — or, rather, 
A master- dazzled out of sight — by the broad and rolhcking 
piece of humorousness of the conception and execution. The 

humor. book is, indeed, a real masterpiece of humor; and 

though Rabelais and Swift might claim it as their Hterary posterity, 
it is substantially an original book, which might have been written 
differently if Rabelais and Swift had never existed, but would 
probably have been little less bright or amusing in any event. It is 
a book*»rritten wdth evident enjoyment and freedom ; it is broad in 
conception and as solid in execution as a genuine historical work, 
and the whimsical charm of its style and characterizations has 
given it a lasting place in the affections of readers. Abroad, it 
was appreciated only less highly than at home. Sir Walter Scott 
read it aloud to his family, laughing heartily over it. During the 
next few years it passed through several editions, and every new 
generation brings it fresh readers. 

The fame and favor thus brought to Irving (who wrote all of 
the book except the five opening chapters, which were the joint 
production of his brother and himself) failed to induce him to 
adopt a literary career. He seems to have regarded his book as 
a jeu d' esprit, not likely to open up a career. He went into 
the hardware business as partner with his brother, visited Wash- 
ington in the interests of the concern and made the 
BoUtics ^^ acquaintance of President Madison and his wife, and 
of society at the capital and in Baltimore. Irving 
was a Federalist, and had dabbled a little tentatively in politics, 
but he was never a strong partisan. To quote his own words, he 
was without gall, and distrusted the soundness of political counsels 
accompanied by attacks on any great class of the people. At this 
period he confessed to restlessness and dissatisfaction. He craved 



PIONEER PERIOD. 43 

some absorbing preoccupation. '' Protect me from these calms ! " 
he exclaimed. Society lost its savor for him. He wrote for ''The 
Analectic Magazine " for a while ; but at the outbreak of the War 
of 1812 he resolved to take up arms, and was appointed aide on 
General Tompkins's staff with the rank of colonel. The war ended 
before he found an opportunity of distinguishing himself, and he 
soon after sailed for Europe to look after the interests of Irving 
Brothers' business on that side of the Atlantic. 

During the next three years he met all the literary celebrities 
of the Old World, and became no less of a favorite in England 
than he was at home. But in 181 8 Irving Brothers failed, and 
this disaster opened to Washington the gates of prosperity and 
renown. With fine courage and determination he struck out on 
an independent literary career. Having once definitely addressed 
himself to this career, he allowed no temptations to turn him from 
it. He who had hitherto been the idle ornament of his family 
now became its stay and support. He refused remunerative offers 
of government employment at home, and editorships abroad, and 
settled down in London to creative literary work. In 1819 he pub- 
lished ''The Sketch-Book," which comprised, among ai^^ 
other pieces, the celebrated story of " Rip Van Winkle " Sketch- 
— "a stroke of genius," as one of his best critics re- *** * 
marks, " that recreates the world, and clothes it with the hues of 
romance. It is one of the primal stories ; a great picture painted 
by a great artist on a small canvas." After its success in America, 
the copyright of the volume was bought by the English publisher, 
John Murray, for $1000. Irving was at this time thirty-six years 
old. 

He continued to reside in England for five years, his next works 
being " Tales of a Traveller," in which are utihzed the fruits of his 
European experiences, and which contains the well-known sketch 
of "The Stout Gentleman": and the volume called "Brace- 
bridge Hall." " He wrote with facility and rapidity 
when the fit was on him, and produced great quantities j;jfJ^^^ "^ 
of manuscript in a short time ; but he often waited and 
worried through barren months for the movements of his fitful 



44 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

genius." Irving himself regarded the "Tales" as more artistic 
than his previous works, but did not anticipate its popularity. It 
was quickly written, and has a charming ease and lightness of 
style, but the public began to demand from him something off the 
old lines. This demand may have suggested to him the group of 
writings that finds its theme and inspiration in Spanish subjects. 
The "Tales" appeared in 1824. In 1826 Irving went to Spain, 
and took up his residence in Madrid. 

The three years that Irving spent in Spain resulted in the writ- 
ing of four books, — the " Alhambra," the " Conquest of Granada," 
the " Legends of the Conquest of Spain " and " The Life of 
Columbus." The field which he thus opened was a virgin one ; 
no books on Spanish subjects had till then been published in 
America, and Irving, in his search for materials, discovered numer- 
His books on ^^^ documents that had lain hidden among the Spanish 
Spanish archives for hundreds of years. The romantic and 

su jects. picturesque episodes of Spanish history, scenery and 
character were thoroughly in harmony with his genius, and his 
treatment of them was so charming and masterly that his books 
are still classics on those topics, and to remember Irving is to 
think of Spain. They are full of descriptions of noble landscapes 
and exquisite architecture, of feats of chivalry and strange adven- 
tures, of supernatural events and portents ; and always by the way 
plays the sunshine of the author's humor, melting into the weird 
and beautiful scenes, and throwing a smihng gleam across the 
shadowy places. The " Life of Columbus " is, of course, a more 
serious and weighty work than the others, and Irving spared no 
pains to be historically accurate. The portrait of the discoverer 
is clearly drawn and richly colored, and is probably as near the 
truth as any conception derived from documents of a man of an 
earUer century can be. From his EngHsh publishers he received 
for the copyright of these works upwards of ^30,000. 

The appointment of Secretary of Legation at the Court of St. 
James brought Irving back to London in 1829, where he renewed 
his relations with his English friends, and received medals and 
degrees of honor from public institutions. In 1831 his longing to 



PIONEER PERIOD. 45 

return home impelled him to resign his appointment, and he 

landed in New York in May of the next year, after a 

seventeen years' absence. He was received and hon- . ^ ^^^^ 

ored as one of the first citizens of the Republic, and 

having bought a farm at Tarrytown on the Hudson, not far from 

Sleepy Hollow, and named it " Sunnyside," he took up his abode 

there with the purpose of there ending his days. 

And, in fact, the next ten years of his life were spent either at 

Sunnyside or in explorations of his own country. A journey in the 

West was the occasion of a descriptive volume, "A 

Tour on the Prairies." "Astoria" was written in -^^ Sunny- 
side. 
compliance with the request of the Astor family ; the 

"Recollections of Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey" embodied 
some EngHsh reminiscences ; " Captain Bonneville " is another 
sketch of Western hfe ; and " Wolfert's Roost " comprised maga- 
zine articles written at various times. 

In 1842, at the instance of Daniel Webster, Irving was ap- 
pointed to the Spanish Ministry, and during his residence in Spain 
of four years he found little leisure to write. On his return, he 
set to work on his long-contemplated " Life of Washington," pub- 
lished in 1855 to 1859; and while producing it he 

turned off rapidly " Mahomet and his Successors " and ^**®5 

^ ■' works. 

" The Life of Goldsmith." He died on Nov. 28, 1859, 

at Sunnyside, and was buried on a little hill overlooking the Sleepy 
Hollow, which his genius had rendered as immortal as himself. 

Irving's Uterary touch lacks sharp precision ; but his sympathetic 
handling causes his pictures to grow upon the reader, until at 
length the latter finds in the work all that its author felt and aimed 
to convey. His point of view was retrospective and tranquil, and 
was particularly grateful to a people who had just emerged from 
the grim realities of the Revolution. He saw life through the 
hterary atmosphere, and had no theories to ventilate, no reforms 
to advocate, no specific moral to enforce. His style was indi- 
vidual, lucid and musical. The moral beauty, integ- ^jg uterary 
rity and generosity of his character shine through style, 
his books. The fact of his giving up, in favor of Prescott, 



46 



AMERICAN LITERATURE, 



the design, cherished for years, of writing the history of the con- 
quest of Mexico — and never allowing Prescott to suspect the 
extent of his sacrifice — is a characteristic trait of a man truly 
lovable and widely loved. His books do good to all who read 
them, and are likely to outlast many works of far greater intel- 
lectual force and acumen : their union of taste, simplicity and 
repose gives them a hold upon our inmost and least variable 
sympathies. 



James Fenimore Cooper (i 789-1851). The massive, forcible 
and impetuous character of this man renders him one of the striking 
figures of his time ; and it would not be easy to find 
A striking ^ contrast greater than that between him and Irving. 
There are apparent contradictions in his career, in 
order to reconcile which we must consider carefully the circum- 
stances of his birth and training, 
his temperament and his intellec- 
tual quality. 

His father was a judge, a mem- 
ber of Congress, and a man of 
means and energy. The year after 
James's birth, he moved from Bur- 
lington, N.J., to a large tract of 
land belonging to himself, near 
Otsego Lake and the Susquehanna 
River. In 1790 this place was 
practically a wilderness : it was on 
the frontier of civilization. Judge 
Cooper laid out the streets of a 
town, and built himself a handsome house; but his house-lots 
remained for the most part unoccupied. James, therefore, — a 
healthy and high-spirited boy, — had the freedom of 
flis early ^yoods and fields, the companionship of trappers and 
Indians and the education to be derived from wild 
animals and observation of wild nature. He was both observant 
and imaginative ; and these open-air experiences, coming at the 




James Fenimore Cooper 



PIONEER PERIOD. 47 

most impressible period of his life, permanently affected him. 
Moreover, the War of the Revolution was but just over, and its 
events, together with views and speculations as to the future of 
the new Republic, were the staple of conversation. Young 
Cooper's patriotism was no doubt kept at a high temperature 
by tales of American hardships and triumphs on the battle- 
field ; while the pohtical discussions between Federalist and 
Republican opened to him vistas of meditation in economic 
and social philosophy. It was natural to him to take every- 
thing seriously, and his cast of thought was ponderous and 
intense, rather than mercurial. The mind housed in his large, 
strong, rather clumsy body partook of its characteristics ; it could 
not turn or move swiftly, but its evolutions were deliberate and 
it fed much upon detail. If he permitted himself to be hur- 
ried beyond his usual gait, his demonstrations were apt to be 
violent, and his conclusions erroneous. His intellectual capacity 
was neither broad nor deep, but it clung with the more tenacity 
to the judgments it formed ; and a certain heavy ingenuity 
and tireless energy enabled him to defend and drive home his 
opinions, to his own satisfaction, if not to that of his opponents. 
Withal, his nature was noble and magnanimous and of inalienable 
dignity ; injustice and littleness aroused his unquenchable wrath, 
which, again, blinded him to the fact that he was not 
seldom led, by the fury of opposition and denuncia- ^\ ^^^^" 
tion, into committing almost as much injustice as he 
denounced. His temper, indeed, was little less than ferocious 
when aroused ; while the persistence and thoroughness of his 
character prompted him to fight out his quarrels to the bitter end. 
His consciousness of the genius which he undoubtedly possessed 
tempted him. to fancy that he was qualified to lay down the law 
on all subjects in heaven and earth ; whereas, in truth, his proper 
field and scope were very narrow. He comprehended neither 
men nor women in any profound sense ; but he had an over- 
mastering perception of certain broad qualities of human nature, 
and, in his best books, he described and embodied them most 
impressively. Some aspects of his character recall that of Walter 



48 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Savage Landor ; but the product of his mind, both in quaUty and 
aim, was, of course, utterly dififerent from that of the great Eng- 
Hshman, while of Landor's classical scholarship he was destitute 
almost of a trace. 

Not that Cooper's education was confined to the influences of 
His education ^^^^^^ ^^^^ i^^ denizens. He had the best schooling 
andexperi- obtainable in that day and place, and entered Yale 
ence. College in 1802, in his fourteenth year; and after 

three years' study, and some preliminary experience in a mer- 
chant vessel, joined the Navy, and served under the Stars 
and Stripes. This not only gave him knowledge and disci- 
pline, which were doubtless of no small value to him, but his 
salt-water experience was also destined to qualify him to be the 
foremost sea-novelist in the language. At twenty-one he left the 
navy and married ; and then for nearly ten years he subsided 
into the gentleman farmer, with every prospect of remaining such 
to the end of his days. 

The manner in which his career was opened to him was char- 
acteristic. He had been reading an English novel, and had found 
The occasion ^^ ^^^ insomuch that, on laying it down, he was moved 
of his first to declare that he could write a better story himself. 
hook. y[x'?>. Cooper may have smiled in a manner which he 

interpreted as incredulous ; at all events, by way of proving his 
words, he took pen and paper and produced one of the stupidest 
books ever written, and decorated it with the engaging title ot 
"Precaution." Whether because he was conscious that this 
achievement scarcely made good his boast, or that, in the course 
of its evolution, he had stumbled upon the secret of his possibili- 
ties, certain it is that instead of laying down his pen, he set to 
work anew, and in "The Spy," a story of the Revolution, he con- 
quered fame at a stroke. This was in 1821. Two years later 
came " The Pioneers," the first pubHshed of the " Leatherstock- 
ing" group; in 1824, "The Pilot," first and best of his sea-tales; 
and in 1826, "The Last of the Mohicans," by which time Cooper 
had become the leading, or rather the only, American novehst, 
and was known and admired not merely at home, but in England 
and, through translations, in most of the countries of the Continent. 



PIONEER PERIOD, 49 

In 1826 Cooper went to Europe, and remained there seven or 
eight years. The consequences of this journey were not fortunate ; 
they brought out the less attractive side of his char- ^ European 
acter. While in France he read in a newspaper a visit and its 
statement reflecting upon the government of the United ^^^'^i*^* 
States. He was moved to write a reply vigorously repelling the 
aspersion ; rejoinders followed on both sides, and ere long the 
pugnacious American was deeply embroiled. On returning home 
in 1833, his ire was aroused afresh by certain hostile criticisms in 
native journals ; instead of being supported by his own country- 
men, he found them turned against him. The situation was one 
to have awakened his sense of humor, if he had had any ; but, as 
usual, he took it in savage earnest, and employed himself for 
several years in proving the turpitude and worthlessness of the 
very people in whose behalf he had been breaking lances abroad. 
Not content with prosecuting actions at law, inditing newspaper 
articles and writing novels in support of his opinions and in 
scorn and ridicule of his opponents, he composed a romance 
embodying his views of the ideal social state. Thus, like a warrior 
at Donnybrook fair, he fought with impartial energy against all 
and sundry ; and ended by shouting defiance to the world from 
the unsubstantial batdements of a castle in the air. The titles of 
these compositions need not be mentioned ; none of them re- 
pay reading, and they are better forgotten. Happily they did 
not prevent Cooper from continuing to produce the great stories 
upon which his renown is based. In all, he wrote thirty-four 
works of fiction, beside histories, essays and treatises. Of these, 
not more than ten demand the notice of the student ; and there 
are, even in those books, large tracts of verbiage that would better 
have been omitted. But there remains, after all deductions and 
criticisms have been made, enough good matter to constitute a 
high and enduring reputation. 

Cooper died on the 14th September, 185 1, the eve of his sixty- 
second birthday. Those of his books that are read fall into two 
groups, — the sea-tales and the Leatherstocking series. They are 
written for the pure pleasure of creation ; they are the fruit of 



50 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

objective experience, enriched by genius and shaped by a mascu- 
line grandeur of motive into noble and dignified forms. Their 
plots are a succession of absorbing and exciting incidents, rendered 
in somewhat formal language, and with a deliberation of move- 
ment and a copiousness of detail which, while giving weight and 

substance to the final impression, are sometimes not 
His method. 

far from the fault of tediousness. Yet this treatment 

is essential to the genius of the author, who cannot use his mate- 
rials until he has, as it were, fingered every part of them. He 
differs from Scott (between whose romances and his own there 
are certain superficial points of resemblance) in two important 
respects : though Scott describes vividly and at sufficient length 
in his introductory passages, he never lingers over such matters 
when the heart of the story is up, but carries us onward with a 
speed in strict proportion to the interest of the situation. Again, 
Scott's dialogues are among his most masterly achievements : they 
riot only advance the narrative, but they interpret the characters 
of the speakers, and they sound the whole gamut of emotion and 
humor. Cooper, on the contrary, never succeeds in making his 
people talk, or in detaching them from their background : their 
utterances have the form but not the quality of living conversation. 
Beyond assigning specific idioms to certain characters, such as 
Natty Bumppo and Long Tom Coffin, Cooper makes scarcely an 
attempt to induce his personages spontaneously to individualize 
themselves. In short, their speech so closely resembles the writing 
of the author that, save for the occasional orthographical and idio- 
matic solecisms above noted, they are indistinguishable therefrom. 
Cooper, in other words, is a describer and nothing else ; but in 
description he is a master. He completes picture after picture to 
the minutest touch ; and he describes actions, thoughts and events 
as exhaustively as he does persons and things. A deeply romantic 
atmosphere pervades all his works ; they are like nothing in the real 
world, and yet the imaginary world which they occupy and con- 
stitute is so consistent and so faithfully elaborated that we might 
easily call them realistic. Cooper's method has been likened to 
Defoe's ; but Defoe never even accidentally lapses into romance. 



PIONEER PERIOD. 51 

and where Defoe is homely, transparent and indifferent, Cooper 
is pompous, complicated and solemn. He is a writer without 
tact ; and when an interval comes in the progress of his tale, it 
seems as if there never would be another movement, until the 
author had weighed down his indefatigable shoulders with earth, 
sky, mankind and all thereto appertaining. 

But the reader always feels that within the mountain of solid 
flesh and bone that Cooper offers to the eye, there is a love of 
beauty, goodness and pure ideals. The things this author most 
loves and reverences are revered and loved by all 

men : he never strikes an unsympathetic note of emo- ^^^^iples 

■' ^ sound. 

tion or principle. And when he is afloat on his quar- 
ter-deck, or immersed in the untrodden wilderness of the Western 
Continent, he gives us an enjoyment new in kind, as wefl as of 
compelling interest. To plunge into one of his great books brings 
a refreshment only to be likened to that of the sea and forest which 
they describe. -We proceed majestically from one stirring event 
to another ; and though we never move faster than a contempla- 
tive walk, we know, like the man on his way to the scaffold, that 
nothing can happen till we get there. 

It is one of Cooper's most remarkable feats that, in spite of his 
weakness in dialogue, he should have created a number of charac- 
ters as solid and recognizable as any in American fiction. Indeed, 
it would be difficult to find anywhere in the literature of the cen- 
tury creatures of imagination having a firmer hold on 
popular sympathy and belief than Natty Bumppo, chaScters 
Long Tom Coffin and many of their associates. We 
know them, we see them and we can even hear them between the 
lines, as it were, that the author gives them to speak. He has 
fashioned them so well that they cease to appear as puppets, and 
seem to come to independent life. 

As soon as Cooper left the realm of his imagination, his genius 
deserted him. The moment he began to wrangle, to exhort or to 
instruct, he failed. Whatever personally disturbed him rendered 
his writing commonplace, tedious and oppressive. Hence arises 
the singular badness of such of his books -as are not good. And 



52 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

hence we may learn how much a man can achieve when, standing 
aloof from his selfish passions and interests, he throws his power 
and resources into impersonal effort. In the one case he is, rela- 
tively, as a lump of solid clay ; in the other, as an incarnate soul. 

It is not necessary to give a list of his many books, 
tooks^ or to note the chronological order of their production. 

Of the Leatherstocking series, there are "The Deer- 
slayer," "The Pathfinder," " The Last of the Mohicans," "The 
Pioneers" and "The Prairie." Of the sea-tales, "The Pilot," " The 
Red Rover" and, perhaps, "The Two Admirals," are sufficient. 
Of the Revolutionary stories may be read " The Spy " and " Lionel 
Lincoln." All the rest may be safely neglected, since whatever is 
good in them is as good, or much better, in those mentioned. 

Fenimore Cooper, from the personal point of view, was a burly, 
gallant, irascible, high-minded gentleman who lived an honorable 
Hfe, and aimed to do justice to all men, not least to himself 
From the standpoint of hterature, he was the discoverer of a 
whole new region of romance, and its most successful worker. 

The power that enabled him to hold the attention Oi 
His position ^ 

in the uter- innumerable readers in all parts of the world, without 
ary world. reference to nationality or circumstance, and which 
has kept his books in active circulation for more than half a cen- 
tury, can be nothing else than genius. His books are friends, 
from childhood to old age : they teach high principles by lovingly 
depicting them, and their popularity is not more creditable to 
them than to the human nature that dehghts in them. 

Edgar Allan Poe (i 809-1 849). The biographers of Poe do 
not agree as to many of the events of his life and traits of his 

character. Griswold, who had possession of his literary 
ConfUcting: remains, probably knew more facts about him than 

did other writers ; but Griswold was Poe's enemy, and 
suppressed or distorted whatever would have told in his favor. 
Ingram, on the contrary, is a blind and injudicious eulogist. 
Between these two extremes there have been all shades of opin- 
ion on the subject. Poe is himself to blame for much of the 




PIONEER PERIOD. 53 

uncertainty concerning him. His autobiographical statements were 
often inconsistent with each other ; he attempted mystification for 
the sake of adding to his importance, or veihng 
discreditable facts. 

He was born in Boston, Mass., on the 19th 
of January. On his father's side he claimed 
descent from an Italian family of the ninth or 
tenth century, who moved to Normandy, thence 
to England, and thence, by way of Wales, to 
Ireland, where, as the De La Poers, they ap- 
pear in the fourteenth century. We know, at 
all events, that Edgar's father, David, was dis- 
owned by his family for having married a pretty 
English actress in this country. At the age gf three Edgar was 
left an orphan, but was adopted by his godparents, Mr. and Mrs. 
Allan, wealthy Virginia people. They treated him 
with indulgence, took him with them to England in ^JS^^p^" 
his sixth year and put him to school at Stoke New- 
ington, some of Poe's reminiscences of which appear in his 
story "William Wilson." After five years' study, he returned to 
America, and entered a private academy near Richmond, being 
then twelve or thirteen years old. Five years later he was ad- 
mitted to the University of Virginia, but left it before he was nine- 
teen, and, owing to some disagreement with his godfather, took 
himself into his own hands, and set out for Greece, intending, like 
Byron, to offer* his aid against the Turks. It is not likely that he 
reached Greece ; there is some reason to believe that he got as 
far as London; but his whereabouts during this year 1827 have 
never been certainly known. He reappeared in Richmond at the 
end of the year, and pubHshed his first poems, " Al Aaraaf " and 
'• Tamerlane." In 1830 he obtained an appointment at West Point, 
but was discharged for irregular conduct nine months afterwards. 

Poe was now an active, handsome, well-informed and highly 
intelligent youth of twenty-one or two, who had seen something of 
life, was averse to steady work, had betrayed a tendency to drink, 
doubtless hereditary, had been alternately spoiled and buffeted 



54 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

by fortune, put a high value on his own importance and abiHties, 
and was proud, secretive and lacking in sound principle. Soon 
after returning to the Allans, Poe had a passing love affair, leading 
to another quarrel with his godfather, and a final separation ; for 
Mr. Allan, now a widower, soon married again, and had a son of 
his own, who inherited the fortune that Poe might otherwise have 
hoped for. Turning for support to literature, he won a prize of a 
hundred dollars in a competition instituted by a peri- 
n^j!^^^" odical called "The Saturday Visitor." His contribu- 
tion was "The Manuscript found in a Bottle," one of 
a group of six stories entitled "Tales of the Folio Club." The 
reputation thus gained brought Poe into business and personal 
relations with the author and editor, Kennedy, and finally led to 
his being given the editorship of " The Southern Literary Messen- 
ger," at a salary of ^520 a year. 

Poe was then twenty-six years old. In the following year he 
married his cousin, Virginia Clemm, the " Annabel Lee " of the 
Continued poem written in 1848, after her death. She was a 
literary ac- beautiful girl, only fourteen at her marriage, and a 
^^^ ^' victim of consumption. A prosperous career seemed 

opening before Poe, for his stories and critiques increased the 
circulation of the magazine; but in 1837 he resigned the editor- 
ship for unexplained reasons. His " Hans Pfaal " and other tales 
and poems had added to his literary reputation, and he obtained 
work on the " New York Quarterly Review," where his severe 
reviews of current literature again attracted attention. He wrote 
" Arthur Gordon Pym " in this year, and it brought him some 
fame in London. In 1838 he went to Philadelphia and became 
editor of "The Gentleman's Magazine " ; and in 1839, in his thir- 
tieth year, he published in a volume his " Tales of the Grotesque 
and Arabesque," on which his renown as a prose writer rests. 
The story " Ligeia," regarded by Poe as his best work, was 
included in this collection. 

The next year he left the " Gentleman's " and undertook 
" Graham's Magazine," whose circulation he soon increased ten- 
fold. Mr. Graham, the proprietor, remained Poe's friend and 



PIONEER PERIOD. 55 

admirer, all his life. After fifteen months, Poe left " Graham's " 
as abruptly as he had left the " Gendeman's," and attempted, 
unsuccessfully, to start a magazine of his own. In 1841, his 
" Murders in the Rue Morgue " was translated in a Paris periodi- 
cal, and the Frenchman, Baudelaire, undertook the 
translation of his other prose works. Poe's popu- ^^^^^ 
larity in France has since that time exceeded that of 
any other American writer. In this year he also wrote a remarka- 
ble prophetic review of " Barnaby Rudge," by Dickens. Though 
only the opening numbers of the novel had appeared, Poe, by dint 
of careful analysis, foretold the future development of the plot. 
In 1842 he first met his biographer, Griswold, a man somewhat 
younger than himself. In 1843 he won the one hundred dollar 
prize from the " Dollar Magazine " committee, with his story of 
" The Gold Bug." 

At the age of thirty-five Poe returned to New York, after a 
residence in Philadelphia of about seven years. He was con- 
nected for a while with " The Mirror," edited by N. P. WiUis ; 
with '' Colton's American Review," and with " The Broadway 
Journal," of which he became proprietor in 1845. In the latter 
year appeared "The Raven," a poem which, more than any other 
one thing, increased his fame both here and abroad. 
He published a volume of his poems, dedicated to y \ ^^ • d 
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, whom he had long ad- 
mired. He delivered a lecture on American Poets, and con- 
tributed reviews to " Godey's Ladies' Book." In 1846 "The 
Broadway Journal," most of which he had himself written, col- 
lapsed, and Poe retired with his invalid wife to a little cottage at 
Fordham. His wife died in 1847. Poe never was quite himself 
afterwards, though, a year or two later, he proposed marriage to a 
Mrs. Whitman, a poetess of local and temporary celebrity. She 
hesitated, and finally declined. He delivered one or two lectures ; 
attempted to found a magazine to be called " The Stylus " ; wrote 
a speculative analysis of the universe, called " Eureka," and pub- 
hshed by George Putnam ; and, in 1 849, died in a hospital in 
Baltimore. He was forty years and nine months old. 



56 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Such is the outline of Poe's hfe — a Hfe crowded with small 
vicissitudes ; marked by exceptional literary distinction, due en- 
tirely to his own genius ; and overshadowed by constant reverses 
and misfortunes, mainly ascribable to his own faults of temper and 
character. He drifted from one friend or supporter to another, 
never attaching himself long, and, like a spoiled child, making 
what was accorded him the basis for demanding more, and angry 
if more were not given. His friendships were all one-sided ; he 
took, but yielded nothing in return. A prospect of prosperity 
only made him restless and discontented ; he was fickle even 
against his own interests. To an unusual degree he was befriended 
and assisted by women. He accepted their ministrations, but 
did nothing to deserve or reward them, unless the 
acter *^' exquisite poems which he based upon some of them 
are to be considered their reward. Always proud and 
vain, he was never independent ; and though acutely sensitive to 
personal slights and attacks, he did not blush to rest under the 
obligations of charity. Secretive he was, but not reticent ; at 
little urging he would lay bare his woes, and magnify them into 
cataclysms. Himself destitute of the faculty of sympathy, he was 
boundless in his demands on the sympathy of others. In a word, 
Poe never grew to the stature and fibre of a man ; he was never 
able to unite himself frankly and cordially with his fellow-creatures : 
there was always Poe on one side, and everybody else on the other. 
Because he felt himself isolated, he fancied himself superior ; what 
was really a defect, he interpreted as a transcendent virtue. In- 
deed, it is highly probable that Poe, in his own eyes, was never 
actually guilty of any fault. He would account himself the victim 
of circumstance, of foes, of inherited temperament ; but he would 
never accuse himself of conscious and voluntary evil-doing. In 
short, as regarded his human or social relations, he was neither 
more nor less than insane, though, of course, such insanity was 
entirely consistent with right-mindedness in matters removed from 
the sphere and friction of his daily existence. 

In truth, Poe was the victim of the disproportion between his 
nature and his intellect, — between his character and his genius. 



FIOiVEEK PERIOD. 57 

His nature was passionate, but narrow and of little depth : his 
character was selfish, and undisciplined by his will. On the other 
hand, his intellect was of exceptional force and capacity, as is 
evidenced by his power of close and cogent reasoning, either on 
abstract or concrete subjects, his retentive and ready 
memory, his quick (though not intuitive) insight into tio^^ between 
complicated problems, the scope — wide, though not Ms nature 
profound — of his attainments and the fickleness char- f^^ellect. 
acteristic of an active mind unrestrained by personal 
weight. His genius resulted from the play between his intellect 
and his imagination. The latter faculty was of abnormal energy ; 
great in itself, but gaining added force from the lack of anything 
to balance or control it. Poe was himself the sport and puppet 
of his own imagination. He permitted it to color and direct his 
actual life. It caused him to regard himself as a character in a 
tale ; and many of his fantastic actions took their rise in the same 
feehng that made him seek to render interesting the personages 
and events of his fictitious productions. It was partly the in- 
herited histrionic instinct, whereby the actor is never so much 
himself as when simulating some one else ; partly the desire to 
(imaginatively) escape the shackles of his petty and inadequate 
nature ; and in part it was unconscious habit, begun in childhood, 
and growing dominant with age. It was the source of his mys- 
tifications, prevarications and downright falsehoods ; it was the 
uneasy spirit that ever drove him to turn from what was good 
to the phantom of something better ; it was the barrier that shut 
him out from the fellowship of man ; while yet, in imagination, he 
could conceive and yearn for intimacies and affections of which 
his feeble and straitened natural constitution made him incapable. 
There is real spiritual tragedy in this situation ; and Poe, though 
he felt its sting, could neither save himself, nor fathom the secret 
of his malady. 

But hostile though Poe's imagination was to his personal ease 
and relations, — though it took all substance out of his life, and 
transformed him into an alien phantom, — it was another thing in 
its relation to his literary product. When he was at his writing- 



58 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

desk he was in his proper place and sphere. It was as natural, 
and indeed as inevitable, for him to construct stories as to think. 
And these stories, in so far as they were successful, fell naturally 
into two divisions, — the stories of quasi-mathematical 
of'stories^^ analysis, with excursions into the horrible, the gro- 
tesque and the startling; and the speculative class, 
including the weird, the supernatural and the transcendental. 
Under the former category belong "The Gold Bug," "The Pur- 
loined Letter," "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," " Hans Pfaal," 
" The Black Cat " ; under the latter, "The Fall of the House of 
Usher," " Ligeia," "William Wilson," "A Tale of the Ragged 
Mountains." Of course these Hsts are not intended to be com- 
plete. Among Poe's failures are all his humorous pieces, and 
such ultra- transcendental efforts as " The Colloquy of Monos and 
Una " and " Silence : a Fable." 

Poe could not be a humorist, because of his lack of human sym- 
pathies ; and for the same reason he could not paint character. 
There are no " live " people in his tales ; they are the mechanical 
hinges on which the events turn. And, despite the vivid interest 
of Poe's productions, their strangeness, their impressiveness, he 

never succeeds in imparting the slightest color to them : 
Work lacks . . 

inspiration* ^^^7 ^^^ exquisitely ingenious studies in black and 

result of cal- white, and that is all. They do not touch the heart, 
analysis. ^"^^ ^^^ ^° ^^^ come from it, nor are they aimed at 
it. Their workmanship is, in many respects, as nearly 
perfect as it can be made. The best of them could scarcely be 
improved in structure, in proportion, in artistic effect. This finish 
is partly due to the repeated revision given them by their author ; 
many of them were remodelled or rewritten several times after 
their first publication. This is characteristic of Poe in two ways : 
it illustrates his intellectual fastidiousness and love of accuracy, 
and it proves how absolutely wanting his tales are in what is called 
inspiration. He made them and understood them as an architect 
does his house ; they emanate from and they contain no spiritual 
depth : Poe had no reverence for them ; they were structures, to 
be modified and improved upon indefinitely. But products of 



PIONEER PERIOD. 59 

true inspiration are in a manner sacred and wonderful even to their 
author; he shrinks from meddling overmuch with their external 
form, lest he should inadvertently mar their psychical significance. 
No such sentiment restrained Poe, who hesitated not (as in 
" Eureka ") to reduce Deity itself to a mathematical formula. 
His curious speculations on the grave, and what lies beyond, are 
curious and sensational, but soulless ; he cares not if what he 
deduces be true, so it produces its proper dramatic effect. He 
cannot be sincere, because he cannot be un-self-conscious, and 
sincerity is the essence of religion. 

Poe's style is illustrative of his qualities. It is precise and clear, 
terse and telling, smooth and polished; but it is not organic nor 
melodious. It is not a flowing, harmonious medium, but a 
labored mosaic, each sentence fitted neatly to the others, yet 
not continuous with them. It is an intellectual style, 
and there is no homogeneity in pure intellect, f^f^l^^^" 
There is in it no long Atlantic roll, no singing sweet- 
ness, no strong, straightforward simplicity. Indeed, it has 
no individual flavor whatever, though it admits such artifices 
as italicized words and shrewd antitheses. With all his shrewd- 
ness, Poe is wanting in good taste ; he does not observe 
the boundary line between the legitimately horrible and the 
revolting, or between playfulness and buffoonery. His highest 
flights tremble on the verge of the commonplace and the bathetic, 
and we can seldom travel far with him without feeling a jolt or a 
hitch. 

All this, and more, may be said in criticism of Poe ; but after 
all he is an irresistibly entertaining writer. He may be read with 
pleasure again and again : at his best he is inimitable. 
It is needless to insist upon his originality; he is ^^^^^ ^ 
original whether he will or no, for the history of lit- 
erature does not show another mind hke his. In point of view, 
in aim, in method, he is involuntarily unique. His faculty neither 
improves nor deteriorates : there is no growth and no decadence. 
It is worth noting that, in his prose works, he habitually dispenses 
with female characters. Women are, indeed, occasionally men- 



60 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

tioned, but they seldom have an independent part to play. In 
his poetry, on the other hand, the feminine element is almost 
invariably the dominant one, and it also appears in those stories 
whose motive and treatment are most nearly allied to the poetical. 
And this brings us to a consideration of Poe's verse. 

" Poetry," he says, in his preface to the " Poems," " has 
been with me not a purpose, but a passion." Yet the opening 
poem in the volume is "The Raven," and, in his essay on the 
" Philosophy of Composition," he labors successfully to prove 
that this most famous of his productions is a mechanical and 
deliberate edifice. No doubt this essay is itself written for 
effect, and Poe does not' tell us where the genius came from 
which makes the poem what it is, and without which all his 
rules and " considerations " are of no avail. But the fact remains 
that here he categorically and exhaustively denies the assertion 
made in his preface ; and, while admitting the genius, we still 
are bound to remember the deliberation. Poetry, then, was a 
purpose with Poe, though it was a passion also. It was a passion, 
however, not of the heart, but of the intellect : it was a passion 
for the beautiful. Beauty, however, according to his concep- 
tion of it, is not a quality, but an effect ; it has to do not with 
the heart, but with the " soul " ; and passion (he adds) demands 
a homeliness absolutely antagonistic to that beauty which is 
the true province of poetry. Poe, therefore, was personally or 

vitally involved in his poetry no more than in his 
The source of pj.Qgg^ Many of his poems are indeed suggested 

by incidents or persons belonging to his actual life; 
but all real substance is eliminated from them, and they become 
mere abstractions, more or less '' beautiful," as the case may 
be. No doubt, again, Poe would have put himself, his heart, 
his nature, into the poems, had anything of the sort been 
available for that purpose ; but, in the first place, he did not 
and could not know his real self, and secondly, had he pos- 
sessed this knowledge, he would have been fain to confess 
himself in no way suited to the province of the Beautiful. 



PIONEER PERIOD. 61 

The elfin charm, the exquisite fascination, the eerie beauty of 
much of Poe's verse is nevertheless incontestable. At times it 
rises above the reach of analysis; there is witchcraft Great beauty 
in it, or, it may be, something purer and nobler than inhispoe- 
witchcraft. God is never wholly without a witness in ^^' 
any soul, and Poe may have confessed God when he little intended 
or suspected it; even as he never was further from Him than 
when, in " Eureka," he fancied he had caught Him in his philo- 
sophical trap. But the charm and fascination are wayward and 
evanescent ; sometimes they live in one line and die in the next ; 
occasionally, as in "To Helen," or "The Haunted Palace," they 
endure throughout ; and not seldom, as in " Eulalie," they are 
altogether absent. For there was no basis of certainty in Poe ; 
his roots did not go down into the eternal verities. He pleases 
a certain mood or attitude of the mind, but in our deeper mo- 
ments we do not go to him. He is, in himself, a psychological 
study of profound interest and permanent significance ; but his 
writings are like gems of the earth — as sparkling and splendid, 
but as hard and as unnourishing. 

Nor must it be forgotten that Poe's good work is very small in 
quantity, and that he seems to have more enjoyed polishing what 
he had already done, than creating new things. In the 
twenty years, more or less, of his productive period, he ^™*^ ^^^' 
wrote forty poems, and some sixty tales or prose nar- 
ratives. Of the poems, not more than ten, or at most a dozen, 
deserve study ; and less than a third of the whole number of 
prose pieces — which, also, are uniformly short. Poe contends 
that quality and not quantity is the essential in- works of art ; 
which is true, but only a partial truth. A great artist can execute 
a miniature ; but a great artist, by virtue of the energy and af- 
fluence that are in him, is sure to produce one or more works 
that are in all senses great. The brevity and scarcity of Poe's 
output is a sign of weakness, or poverty of generative faculty. If 
a poem like " The Raven " is merely a matter of solving a definite 
problem, the factors of which are known, why did not Poe write 
such a poem as often as once a month ? Never was so broad a 



62 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

reputation built upon a basis of actual achievements so narrow, as 
in the case of Poe. 

His critical and miscellaneous work need not detain us, the 
former being mostly destructive, and the latter possessing no sig- 
nificant features. In person, Poe was of medium height, slight 
and compact in figure, and with a peculiar grace and dignity of 
movement. His head and face were strikingly handsome, show- 
ing both the strength and the weakness of his incoherent per- 
sonality. His complexion was pale, his hair and eyes very dark, 
his expression habitually grave and melancholy ; one who knew 
him affirmed that he "never smiled." His voice, even in mo- 
ments of excitement, was noticeably low, and finely modulated. 
His manner, when he was well disposed, was courteous and win- 
ning, though reserved ; but he can scarcely be said to have been, 
as ■ Irving, for instance, was, a gentleman to the marrow of his 
bones. He could display the best of good breeding, as might a 
finished actor on the stage, when it was his cue and pleasure to 
do so; but violence, rudeness and even coarseness were not less 
characteristic of him upon occasion. Had Poe possessed a small, 
bright intellect, proportioned to his nature, he would have been a 
happy and successful man, but unknown. Had he possessed a 

nature commensurate with his intellect, he would have 
His career a i^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ greatest of the human race. Being 
conflict. ° • -J 

what he was, his career was a conflict and a suicide ; 

yet he achieved things that can never be forgotten, and his genius 
has had neither precedent nor successor. 

Among the minor writers of this period, the following may be 
mentioned : — 

Susanna Rowson (i 761-1824) wrote a novel, popular in its 
day, chiefly because it was founded on a local social scandal. It 
was called " Charlotte Temple." 

Tabitha Tenney (i 762-1837) in her "Female Quixotism," 
satirized the tearful and sentimental style of writing that her 
sister-novelist practised. 



PIONEER PERIOD. 63 

James Kirk Paulding (i 779-1860) was a friend of Irving, and 
a collaborator on some of his works. He wrote some of the papers 
in " Salmagundi," and a novel, " The Dutchman's Fireside." He 
united sentiment and humor, paid small heed to art, was vivacious 
and ephemeral. Other stories of his are " Westward Ho " and 
" A Single Tale." 

N. P. Willis (1806-186 7), son of a veteran journalist of the 
Revolution, was educated in Andover and Yale, and while still an 
undergraduate, published a volume of poems that gave him some 
reputation. Later, in Boston, he wrote tales and sketches, and 
edited annuals and, in 1829, established "The American Monthly 
Magazine." In 1831 he went abroad as foreign correspondent of 
the New York " Mirror." He remained six years, and his literary 
product appeared in several volumes, — "Pencilhngs by the Way," 
"Inklings of Adventure," "Melanie and other Poems." In 1836 he 
married an English girl, brought her to America, and established 
himself in a farm on the Susquehanna, which he called " Glen- 
mary." Here he wrote numerous contributions for the "Mirror," 
and three successful plays, "Bianca Visconti," "The Betrothal" and 
"Dying for Him." In 1839 ^^^ started a short-lived eclectic maga- 
zine, "The Corsair," and in 1843 ^ periodical called "The Evening 
Mirror." In 1845 his wife died; but, in the following year, he 
married again, and became connected with "The Home Journal." 
He sold Glenmary and removed to his second home, " Idlewild," 
on the Hudson. His latter days were somewhat overshadowed 
by debt and illness, but he never ceased to work, until, in 1867, 
he died at the age of sixty-one. Besides the periodicals above 
mentioned, " The Youth's Companion," a paper still published, was 
founded and edited for many years by Willis's father, Nathaniel 
WiUis. His best work was done as a society correspondent. 
Neither his prose nor his poems have stood the test of time, but 
they were popular while he lived ; and Willis himself gained and 
deserved the affection of all who knew him. 



64 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



POE. 

Selections and Exercises. 
ISRAFEL.i 

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell 

" Whose heart-strings are a lute " ; 

None sing so wildly well 

As the angel Israfel, 

And the giddy stars (so legends tell), 

Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell 
Of his voice, all mute. 

Tottering above 

In her highest noon, 

The enamoured moon 
Blushes with love, 

While, to listen, the red levin 

(With the rapid Pleiads, even. 

Which were seven). 

Pauses in heaven. 

And they say (the starry choir 

And the other listening things) 
That Israfeli's fire 
Is owing to that lyre 

By which he sits and sings — 
The trembling living wire 

Of those unusual strings. 

1 And the angel, Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the 
sweetest voice of all God's creatures. — Koran. 



POE. 65 

But the skies that angel trod, 

Where deep thoughts are a duty— 
Where Love's a grown-up God — 

Where the Houri glances are 

Imbued with all the beauty 

Which we worship in a star. 

Therefore, thou art not wrong, 

IsrafeH, who despisest 
An unirnpassioned song; 
To thee the laurels belong. 

Best bard, because the wisest ! 
Merrily live, and long ! 

The ecstasies above 

With thy burning measures suit — 
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love, 

With the fervor of thy lute — • 

Well may the stars be mute ! 

Yet Heaven is thine ; but this 

Is a world of sweets and sours ; 

Our flowers are merely — flowers, 
And the shadow of thy perfect bhss 

Is the sunshine of ours. 

If I could dwell 
Where Israfel 
Hath dwelt, and he where I, 
He might not sing so wildly well 

A mortal melody, 
While a bolder note than this might swell 
From my lyre within the sky. 



'fc>' 



Exercise. — Upon what is the poem founded? What figure 
does the quoted sentence contain? What was his power? What 
was the condition of the heaven in which he sang? Why is he 



66 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the best bard ? How does the poet's lot contrast with the angel's ? 
If the two could change places, what would be the result? Study 
the technical structure of this poem ; it would be difficult to find 
elsewhere, in an equal compass, so much skill and beauty. 



DREAM-LAND. 



By a route obscure and lonely, 

Haunted by ill angels only, 

Where an Eidolon, named Night, 

On a black throne reigns upright, 

I have reached these lands but newly 

From an ultimate dim Thule — 

From a wild, weird clime that lieth, sublime, 

Out of Space — out of Time. 

Bottomless vales and boundless floods. 
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, 
With forms that no man can discover 
For the dews that drip all over; 
Mountains toppling evermore 
Into seas without a shore ; 
Seas that restlessly aspire, 
Surging into skies of fire ; 
Lakes that endlessly outspread 
Their lone waters — lone and dead — 
Their still waters — still and chilly — 
With the snows of the lolling lily. 

By the lakes that thus outspread 
Their lone waters, lone and dead, — 
Their sad waters, sad and chilly 
With the snows of the lolling lily, — 
By the mountains — near the river 
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, — 



POE. 67 

By the gray woods, — by the swamp 
Where the toad and the newt encamp, — 
By the dismal tarns and pools 

Where dwell the Ghouls, — 
By each spot the most unholy — 
In each nook most melancholy, — 
There the traveller meets aghast 
Sheeted Memories of the Past — 
Shrouded forms that start and sigh 
As they pass the wanderer by — 
White-robed forms of friends long given, 
In agony to the Earth — and Heaven. 

For the heart whose woes are legion 
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region — 
For the spirit that walks in shadow 
'Tis — oh, 'tis an Eldorado! 
But the traveller, travelling through it, 
May not — dare not openly view it ; 
Never its mysteries are exposed 
To the weak human eye unclosed; 
So wills its King, who hath forbid 
The uplifting of the fringed lid ; 
And thus the sad Soul that here passes 
Beholds it but through darkened glasses. 

By a route obscure and lonely, 
Haunted by ill angels only. 
Where an Eidolon named Night 
On a black throne reigns upright, 
I have wandered home but newly 
From this ultimate dim Thule. 

Exercise. — Look up the proper nouns, and the words of which 
you do not know the meaning. How does he reach the land? 
Where does it He? Where is he from? What reigns? Describe 
the land. What is the allegory? 



68 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

General. — Study "The Poetic Principle" if you have access 
to it; also "The Rationale of Verse." They present the author's 
theory of verse. Are the points true? Does he follow his own 
theories ? 

Has the poet any long poems? Dramas? Narrative poems? 
What emotion do they most affect ? Are there love lyrics ? Lyrics 
of patriotism? Martial lyrics? Select some of his most melo- 
dious poems ; study his method of producing the melody. Are 
his poems sensuous ? Simple and placid ? Do they produce an 
exaltation ? Do they stimulate ambition ? Do they please you ? 
If so, by what qualities? Do they bring consolation? Are they 
didactic? Do they show fancy? Imagination? Humor? 
Tragedy? Is he a poet of nature? Is he metaphysical? Philo- 
sophical? Impulsive? Impassioned? Does he put art, truth, 
or beauty first? Do you find skill in versification? In what 
particulars ? 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 69 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 

Neither the War of 1812 with England nor the Mexican War 
provoked much poHtical oratory in America. No new or com- 
manding principles were involved in them. Our rights as against 
England were too obvious to admit of discussion, though at first 
an anti-war party, based on economical and prudential grounds, 
did exist. But as the nation's blood warmed to the 

conflict, the dissentients lost ground. As to the Mex- ^^"^^ "^^^'^^ 

' ® wars, 

ican affair, its chief contribution to literature was the 

" Biglow Papers " of James Russell Lowell, satirizing the motives 
animating this country. Our attitude was not, perhaps, easily 
defensible on grounds of high morality ; but the war was a natural 
and an expedient one, and its results were unquestionably bene- 
ficial. 

There was, however, at our own doors and within them, a 
topic that stimulated, deserved and received the most exhaustive 
analysis and discussion, and that produced eloquence quite as 
impassioned and exalted as did the Revolutionary 

cause itself. This was the institution of slavery, ^?^^f^"^^ 

■' ' vital topic. 

which, in the progress of its development, involved 
a profound discussion of the rights and powers of the states 
in their relations to the Federal Government. A small, extreme 
party at the North insisted for many years on the immediate 
and unconditional abolition of slavery ; a larger, more conser- 
vative party, while granting that slavery, in the states which 
had been parties to the original compact that formed the 
Union, was protected by the Constitution, was yet opposed, 
on moral grounds, to its extenfJon into new territory acquired 
by the United States. The Southern States contended that they 



70 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



Calhoun's 
position in 
the contro- 
versy. 



had sacrificed as much in forming the Union as had any other 

section, and that one of the conditions of the com- 
The widen- ' 

ing of the pact was the protection of this institution. Between 
breach. ^^ beginning of the agitation in 1790 and its cul- 

mination in i860, the subject passed through many phases of 
adjustment and compromise. The vital antagonism of the prin- 
ciples involved called for profound consideration ; and, as has 
been said, minds competent to deal with fundamental problems 
of government were not wanting. 

The most distinguished advocate of the States Rights Doctrine 
was the South Carolinian senator, John C. Calhoun (1782- 
1850). The Union, in his opinion, was not a com- 
prehensive or homogeneous organism, but an assem- 
blage of friendly powers, willing to act together when 
expedience dictated, but otherwise free to follow 
their own counsels. This was not new doctrine : the same 
thought, variously expressed, had come to the surface time and 

again in discussions of the Con- 
stitution. But Calhoun elaborated 
the proposition into a system ; he 
preached the doctrine through a 
long life spent in high station; he 
made it so potent that it controlled 
the action of his state on all im- 
portant occasions. After his death, 
the Southern States seceded from 
the Union with this doctrine as 
their explanation and justification. 
However, he carried the doctrine 
to an extreme degree, endorsed 
by his own state, but beyond the 
sanction of the other Southern 
States. In defending the famous 
South Carolina Nullification Ordinance of '32, he asserted that 
each state was the judge of the legality and constitutionality 
of any act of Congress. Unreasonable as such a proposition 




John C. Calhoun. 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 71 

seems now, and as it seemed then to a majority of Americans, 
it was not novel doctrine in his time ; while no other Southern 
State ''minified" any of the acts of Congress, many of the 
Northern States "nuUified" the Fugitive Slave Law in '53. 

Calhoun's speeches are marked by close, severe, telUng logic 
and impassioned earnestness, and show him to have been a 
rhetorician of great skill and persuasiveness. He was a man of 
aggressive temper and intrepid moral courage. Webster said of 
his style of oratory : " His eloquence was part of his intellectual 
character. It was plain, strong, terse, condensed, -^eija^er's 
concise ; sometimes impassioned, still always severe. character- 
Rejecting ornament, not often seeking far for illus- ization. 
tration, his power consisted in the plainness of his proposition, 
in the closeness of his logic, and in the earnestness and energy 
of his manner." 

But there was a violent party at the North that insisted on the 
abolition of slavery without regard to law or Constitution ; and as 
early as 1831, William Lloyd Garrison (1805-18 79), a printer, 
of Massachusetts, published a weekly paper called "The Liber- 
ator," to defend the proposition that slave-holding, apart from all 
political considerations, was a moral crime, and ought to be 
stamped out at all costs. The integrity of the Union was en- 
dangered by the principles of Calhoun on the one side, and by 
those of Garrison on the other. Garrison was a characteristic 
product of New England, in respect of indomitable energy, cour- 
age, and persistence ; but he differed from the early Puritans in 
the radicalism and eccentricity of many of his views, ^j^^ position 
In common with others of his time, he had devel- ofanAboii- 
oped the doctrines of human freedom contained in t^^^i^t* 
the Declaration of Lidependence and the Constitution, until he 
found himself in an attitude of criticism towards all forms of 
government ; and his religious convictions were also peculiar. 
Nothing less than absolute and uncompromising right would 
satisfy him ; no gradual or partial measures looking to emanci- 
pation were to be tolerated. Country, patriotism, national power, 
were as nothing in his eyes, if they obstructed the discharge of a 



72 



AMERICAN LITERA TURE. 



moral duty. He wrote much, and in grim earnest, not only in the 
several periodicals that he edited, but in private letters to corre- 
spondents ; and the burden of his utterances were ever the same, 
— abolish slavery, and abolish it at once ! His vehemence made 
him a leader, and his disciples called themselves the Abolitionists. 
Men hke Wendell Phillips (1811-1884) and Charles Sumner 
(1811-1874) allied themselves- to this new party, 

PhilUps as ^j^^ |j^ jj^g \,t^\\i of ridicule and hostility, exhorted 
an orator. ' ■' ' 

the North and antagonized the South, in season and 

out of season. Phillips, unlike Garrison, was a man of fine edu- 
cation, and a speaker of consummate eloquence. He never 

held, nor cared to hold, a posi- 
tion under government ; but 
on the lecture-platform, which 
was at that time at its height 
of popularity, he was an influ- 
ence and a stimulus of unsur- 
passed effectiveness. He could 
state and argue a proposition 
with extraordinary clearness and 
force, and commanded every 
rhetorical art for the expression 
of scorn, sarcasm, denunciation 
and humanitarianism. He de- 
lighted in opposition, and con- 
stantly faced and defied and 
not seldom conquered audiences 
who were all but ready to offer him bodily violence. Patriot 
he cannot be termed, and, ardently though he professed to 
love reform, he probably loved speaking on it even better. 
Sunmer was in the Senate from the age of forty until his 
death: in 1856 he was personally attacked in the Senate 
Chamber by a Southerner named Brooks, and suffered in health 
but gained in popularity ever after. He was an elaborate and 
lucid logician, and his personal integrity and intolerance of 
injustice were genuine ; but his manners were uncongenial, and 




Charles Sumner. 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 



73 



aroused hostility. He represented the views of the AboHtionists 
in Congress. 

Between the extremists of both parties stood the figures of 
Henry Clay (i 777-1852) of Kentucky and Daniel Webster 





Henry Clay. 



Daniel Webster. 



(1782-185 2) of Massachusetts. Throughout the bitter contro- 
versy of the contending sections, they took a temperate course. 
At the beginning of the hfe of the Union, slavery 
was found in all parts of the country ; and though strength of 
not a few good men, in both the South and the t^^e Union. 
North, held slavery to be morally a wrong, yet of its legality 
there was no question. But, as time went on, slaves grew 
fewer at the North, and increased in number at the South, 
and along with this altered distribution came a development 
of Northern sentiment against slavery. The North now wished 

the Federal Government to restrict a practice in which _, 

^ Change in 

they had themselves formerly participated. But in thesitua- 
1838, by a vote of more than two to one, the Senate **°^' 
resolved that any interference with slavery " tended to weaken 
and destroy the Union." 

The dispute as to the right of slave-holding states to continue 
to hold them was not, however, a really critical one. It was on 



74 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the question as to the extension of the institution into virgin terri- 
tory that the serious conflict arose. Conservative people on both 
sides wished to preserve the Union; but it was soon perceived 
that great concessions by both parties were indispensable to 

prevent disaster. There was need of statesmen sa- 
The hour and • i • i . - , 

the men. gacious enough to appreciate the gravity of the 

danger, and wise enough to avoid it. Clay and 
Webster fulfilled these conditions. Their controlhng aim was 
to preserve the Union ; and, so long as they lived, they were 
able to devise some scheme of compromise popularly serviceable ; 
and it was only ten years after their death that the '' irrepressible 
conflict " had to be submitted to the arbitrament of arms. 

Henry Clay, a Virginian by birth, a Whig (as the heirs of the 
Federalists were called) in politics, and representing Kentucky 
The work of "^ ^^^ Senate, succeeded, by dint of painting in vivid 
the Great colors the perils of dissension, and by devising a modus 
acificator. invendi in each disagreement as it arose, in postpon- 
ing the inevitable crisis. The Nullification Law of 1833 was the 
result of his efforts, as were also the two Compromise Acts, under 
one of which slavery was forbidden above latitude 36° 30', while 
the other admitted California under its own constitution. He 
advocated a more stringent Fugitive Slave Law ; but he counselled 
the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, and its being 
made optional in Utah and New Mexico. Clay's manner was 
winning and persuasive, while his utterances were more remark- 
able for earnestness and justness than for profundity or compelling 
power. Few great statesmen have been the object of so much 
personal affection as Clay : yet he was thrice defeated for the 
presidency. He deplored the existence of slavery, but was alive 
to the unwisdom of drastic measures, and looked to its gradual 
discontinuance. 

Webster was the strong man of that age. Educated at Dart- 
mouth, he was an orator at eighteen, and from the 
ne 'd a" ^ outset was loyal to one overruling sentiment, which 
recurs again and again, in varied forms, in his great 
orations, and is embodied in that memorable phrase, — " Liberty 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 75 

and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable ! " All his 
political effort, from first to last, was to incline men and events 
into conformity with this principle. All that he did was done 
with this end in view, and nothing that he ever said was inconsist- 
ent with it. He was a man of one idea ; but it was an idea fit to 
monopolize a giant mind. In him the nature was adequate to the 
intellect, and there was no man whose physical aspect so well 
corresponded with his mental reputation. A writer who knew 
him said : *' Such a figure, such an intellect, such a heart, were 
never before combined to awe the world. The vast plan of him : 
the front of Jove ; the regal, commanding air which cleared a 
path before him ; the voice of thunder and of music which re- 
vealed the broad caverns of his chest; the unfathomable eye 
which no sculptor could render, — all these external signs said, 
* Here is a Man ! ' It will take an aeon to compose another such 
man as Webster. The idea of greatness is inseparable from him. 
He had a heart of deep power and love ; that the humblest of his 
friends loved him the most, was proof of a large kindness and 
lienignity, revealed outwardly by the sweet grandeur of his smile. 
The melancholy of his kingly face, the deep beyond deep of gloom 
Iteneath his brows, were affecting and awful." Webster began life 
3is a lawyer; and his speech for the prosecution in the White 
murder case in Salem, delivered in April, 1830, immediately after 
a rapid and exhausting journey, is one of the best examples of his 
literary powers. Indeed, it is among the best pieces of literary 
composition in our literature, being at times equal in this respect 
to the prose of Nathaniel Hawthorne himself. The picture of 
the murder, and of the state of mind of the murderer, are models 
of power, directness and simphcity ; and, as delivered by Webster's 
organ-tones, and emphasized by his gesture and facial expression, 
may well have been unforgetable. 

His later poHtical orations were couched in a less simple style, 
being designed for another kind of audience. It was 
a style peculiar to Webster, and, like the bow of of^the^union 
Ulysses, only its owner could wield it. From any 
other lips it would have seemed grandiloquent and pompous ; but 



76 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

his nature was so large, majestic and imposing that this appeared 
his proper utterance. Only the largest emergencies were large 
enough for him to deal with ; and when, as occasionally happened, 
he was called on to speak on some ordinary theme, it was like 
harnessing Niagara to run a saw-mill. But with the integrity of 
the Union depending on his words, he was in his proper sphere, 
and the measure of the man and of the theme were one. His 
genius had the breadth of the Continent. 

While the bitterness of political feeling was yet in some degree 
repressed, Webster had the confidence of the country. His 
presence was considered indispensable at times of national com- 
memoration and festival : such as the laying of the corner-stone 
of Bunker Hill Monument, and its completion eighteen years 
later ; the memorial exercises at Plymouth Rock, and at Faneuil 
Hall ; the hundredth anniversary of the birth of George Washing- 
ton, and the like. But, with the growing acerbity of sectional 
animosities, the extremists began to murmur because Webster 
refused to join their war-dances and echo their threats. They 
accused him of temporizing and trimming, of yielding to bluster, 
of flattering plutocracy, and even of betraying the public weal 
for the ends of his personal ambition. But these persons were 
victims of the same sort of optical illusion that leads the unin- 
structed to suppose that the sun revolves round the 
"^re'mfice^^"^ earth. Webster remained steadfastly in one place, and 
uttered consistently the same sentiments ; it was they, 
and not he, who drifted from moorings. The man who does not 
yield to the hallucinations and passions of his contemporaries 
must ever appear to them the one misguided and depraved 
individual ; but time reverses the unjust verdict, and puts the 
blame where it belongs. 

When, on the yth of March, 1850, Webster rose to speak to 
the measure suggested by Henry Clay, it is no exaggeration to say 
that the attention not only of Congress but of the whole people 
was riveted upon him. A timid or a self-seeking man would have 
striven to placate one side or the other ; but for Webster there 
was no thought save to utter the whole truth as he saw it, for the 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 77 

welfare not of the parties of the moment, but of the generations to 
come. He threw his whole majestic and profound soul into the 
effort ; and the speech that followed was the com- 
pletest and most powerful expression of his life-long appeal for 
convictions that he had ever uttered. Leaning neither impartial 
to the one side nor to the other, he revealed their 
errors to both South and North, and bade them consider how 
irrevocably disastrous must be the result of a false step at such a 
crisis. He rebuked the hare-brained and premature zeal of the 
Abolitionists ; and the picture he drew of the consequences to the 
South of secession was of such convincing force as to delay for a 
decade their resort to that alternative. But the virtue of impar- 
tiality is to partisans the least forgivable of crimes ; and when 
Webster sat down, though he had earned the gratitude of pos- 
terity, he had alienated half his friends, and inflamed his enemies 
beyond limit. The mildest censures passed upon him were that 
he had done evil that good might come of it ; that like Lucifer he 
had fallen from a fatal ambition ; that he was a man of mighty 
faculties and httle aims, whose Hfe no high purpose had endowed 
with reality. He died two years later, too soon by far to see the 
tide of opinion change : but he had done his duty in the face of 
gigantic difficulties and temptations, and this reflection made his 
deathbed serene. 

His eulogy was pronounced by his friend and sympathizer, 
Rufus Choate (i 799-1859), the foremost lawyer of his time, 
and distinguished for his sumptuous forensic eloquence. He was 
chosen senator in his forty-second year, but his fame was won at 
the bar; his intellect being specially adapted to the analysis of 
evidence and to the subduing of juries. The quahty of such 
efforts now rests chiefly upon hearsay ; but his printed orations, 
and especiafly the Webster eulogy of 1853, prove an elevated, if 
somewhat too euphemistic literary style. Edward Everett (1794- 
1865), however, was the great euphemist of that age; he studied 
and polished his speeches until they reached a pitch of rhetorical 
perfection unexampled since the days of Greek and Latin oratory. 
The fashion has gone by for such elaborate art and artifice, but it 



78 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

was precisely suited to the audiences to which Everett appealed. 

He appeared to remain always in a state of admiring contemplation, 

of pensive reminiscence, of glowing premonition over something, 

it mattered little what. His smooth-flowing, musical 

An early sentences have nowhere a hitch or a discord : he rang 
euphemist. ^ ° 

all the changes on sweetness, pathos, sentiment, opti- 
mistic prophecy. He exploited the requirements of culture to 
the ultimate degree of fastidiousness ; even religion and moraUty, 
under his touch, are made to seem pretty, touching and graceful, 
rather than searching or sublime. There was a ladyhke quahty in 
his deliverances — a deficiency of rugged and resonant masculine 
fibre — which removes them somewhat from the sympathies of 
to-day. Everett achieved pubhc distinction of a high and varied 
kind, and had the best education that America and Europe could 
provide. He was, at different times, a professor at Harvard, and 
president of that institution ; a clergyman ; a poet ; a grammarian ; 
a United States minister ; a member of both houses of Congress ; 
a Secretary of State ; and a governor. He failed of election as 
Vice-President in i860, and though he has been but twenty-five 
years in the grave, he has already faded out of men's memories. 
Among other public men of the period may be mentioned John 
Quincy Adams (i 767-1848), a President of the United States, 
a versifier and a Shakesperian critic^; Robert Charles Winthrop 
(b. 1809), who wrote, among other things, the addresses in the 
beginning and at the completion of the Washington Monument ; 
Jefferson Davis (1808-1889), President of the Confederacy, a 
trenchant controversiaHst, author of "The Rise and Fall of the 
Confederate Government"; Alexander H. Stephens (1812- 
1883), author of "A Pictorial History of the United States" and 
"The War between the States," an eminently temperate and 
luminous writer upon constitutional construction; William Henry 
Seward (i 801-1872), of Lincoln's Cabinet, author of a "Diplo- 
matic History of the Civil War" ; and Abraham Lincoln (1809- 
1865), the War President, admired and respected by both friends 
and foes, who, though anything but a literary man, was among 
America's history-makers, and whose inaugural and farewell ad- 



SOME- STATESMEN AiVD HISTORIANS. 79 

dresses, and commemorative speech at Gettysburg, are unsur- 
passed for dignity, simplicity and lofty and manly sentiment. 

The minds that make history and the minds that record it are 
in categories widely different, yet they cannot be placed more 
fitly than side by side. We depend upon the latter for our knowl- 
edge of the former; historians are the complement of men of 
action, whose lives they pass their lives in studying and interpret- 
ing ; and their work, at its best, is only less important than the 
best imaginative hterature, — which surpasses both action and 
record, being, humanly speaking, immortal. The great historians 
are, indeed, necessarily men of creative imagination, or, more 
accurately, re- creative, giving us the picture and the meaning not 
of the ideal that might be, but of the reahty that has been. 

Setting aside the early historians from Governor Hutchinson to 
Abiel Holmes, whose useful and conscientious but unreadable 
works have been supplanted by those of later investigators, with 
broader opportunities and better methods, we find a pious and 
laborious Connecticut Yankee, Jared Sparks (i 789-1866), as 
the author of a number of historical biographies of important 
personages, beginning with the '' Life and Writings of 
George Washington," in twelve large octavo volumes, -^ ^logra- 
continuing in the " Life of Gouverneur Morris," the 
'' Library of American Biography," in twenty-five volumes, all of 
which he edited and some of which he wrote ; the " Works and 
Life of Benjamin FrankHn," in ten volumes, which has been super- 
seded only by John Bigelow's late work on the same subject ; and 
ending with " The Correspondence of the American Revolution." 
Sparks collected, arranged and shaped material, but did not at- 
tempt to give it interior philosophical organization. His books 
were and will be more useful to succeeding historians than they 
can ever be to the general reader. He was diligent, accurate and 
enthusiastic, but not critical. An abler and deeper man was John 
Gorham Palfrey (i 796-1881), who, in his "History of New 
England," gave a simply worded but penetrating exposition of the 
early Puritan character, doing justice both to their virtues and their 
faults. His work remains the best discussion of the topic selected. 



80 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

The wide expanse of the Western Continent has been divided 
up among our historians, until not much of great importance 

remains. Beginning in high latitudes, Francis Park- 
of the field. "^^^ describes the collisions and negotiations between 

the French and the English in Canada and the North ; 
Prescott goes back to the days of Ferdinand and Isabella, and 
tells of Spanish conquests in Mexico and Peru ; Irving relates the 
story of Columbus ; Hubert Howe Bancroft treats of the Pacific 
States, in forty volumes ; and George Bancroft brings the history 
of the American colonies down to, and through, the War of the 
Revolution. The period between 1789 and the Civil War is still 
unoccupied, though Professor McMasters is working in that direc- 
tion ; and the Civil War itself, though frequently discussed, notably 
in the " Life of Abraham Lincoln," recently issued by John Hay 
and John Nicolay, has probably yet to receive its final historical 
treatment. Motley, in his " Rise of the Dutch Republic," is the 
only one of our historians of note who has gone outside his native 
land for a subject, — for Spain is used by Prescott only as one 
of the factors in American development, — but the theme he de- 
velops is congenial to American ideas, tracing as it does the suc- 
cessful struggle of man against political and religious oppression. 
Historians are growing more critical and philosophical as time 
goes on — that is, they are getting nearer to the ultimate meaning 
of man and life, as illustrated by the events and circumstances of 
the past ; and we may expect that the next great writer in this 
vein will elicit a body of permanent truths of far deeper interest 
and significance than any mere picture of people and things, 
however brilliant and just. 

A " History of the United States " was written, about the 
middle of the century, by Richard Hildreth, treating of the period 
between Washington and Monroe, or down to the year 182 1. It 
is a work so strongly partisan (on the Federalist side) -as to di- 
minish what value it possesses ; and though its statements of facts 
are clear and trustworthy, its uniform dulness, which is scarcely 
reheved by its political vehemence, renders it unreadable. Hil- 
dreth's work cannot be considered in any respect final, and, from the 
Hterary point of view, may certainly be neglected by the student. 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 81 

But the writings of William Hickling Prescott (i 796-1859) 

have a Uterary as well as a historical value. Indeed, the obvious 

brilliance of his hterary method has in some measure 

A historian 
detracted from the confidence reposed in his accuracy who turns 

as a historian : it was doubted whether pictures so ^^^^ ^^® 

11- r 1 1 M , • , UnitedStates 

glowuig and diversified were entirely compatible with to other divi- 

conscientious adherence to fact. But Prescott used ^ions of the 
1 . . . . 1 T , , , continent, 

his imagination not to color or distort the truth, but to 

give it body and impressiveness ; and the themes which he selected 
were adapted to the warm conceptions of his genius. His blind- 
ness no doubt strengthened his tendency to picturesque treatment ; 
he pondered over the scenes that he portrayed until they became 
living realities to him. In reading him we feel that he wrote from 
a mind already stored and overflowing, not with his note-books 
and his authorities by his side, to be consulted at every dip of the 
pen. His style is not dissimilar to Macaulay's ; 
less opulent in rhetoric, but also less open to 
subsequent correction. Though not strong in 
philosophical analysis, Prescott keeps the reader 
sufficiently awake to the relative value of the 
events described ; as we sweep along on the 
vigorous current of his narrative, we are not 
made oblivious of the chart of our course, nor 
of the significance of the journey. The time 
has not yet come for any one to supplant Pres- " / 

COtt in the honorable position he holds in the WniiamHickling Prescott. 

historical realm. He published his '' History of Ferdinand and 
Isabella," covering the period from 1469 to the era of Columbus. 
At this point Irving's " Life of Columbus " picks up the tale, and 
the same writer had gathered material to treat of the Conquest of 
Mexico by Cortez, in 15 19. But, as we have seen, he resigned 
this subject to Prescott, whose '' History of the Conquest of Mex- 
ico " appeared in 1843. The " History of the Conquest of Peru," 
published in 1847, brought the early Spanish- American annals 
down to the year 1530. His next work, the "History of the 
Reign of Philip II.," was designed to include the period between 
1555 and 1598, but it was never completed; and to Motley was 




82 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

left the congenial task of describing the rise of the Dutch Republic 
against Philip in 1572. Beyond a volume of miscellaneous essays, 
Prescott's labors were at an end. 

What Prescott has done for the south of the continent, Francis 
Parkman (182 3-1 893) achieved for its northern regions. Park- 
man was a Bostonian by birth, a graduate of Harvard, and began his 
career with a futile attempt at novel- writing. But, while still early 
in his twenties, he made a journey to the Pacific coast, and the 
narrative of what he saw on this trip, published in the " Knicker- 
bocker Magazine," and afterwards collected in a volume called 
"The Oregon Trail," gave the cue to his future work. " He would 
write about Indians and the wilderness ; only, instead of attempt- 
ing the featureless and barren task of a history of aborigines pure 
and simple, with ethnological researches or speculations thrown 
in, he would select that part of Indian annals that was associated 
with the invasions, settlements and . rivalries of the white races 
north of latitude 40°. Of course the Indian became a mere ap- 
pendage in this struggle ; but the scenery, the adventures and the 
conflicts all belonged to the wilder aspects of life. 

The French, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, owned, 
or claimed, the whole of what is now the territory of the United 
States, with the exception of a strip of coast country a few hun- 
dred miles wide on the Atlantic, occupied by the English colonies, 
and a similar but wider strip on the Pacific, belonging to Spain. 
The Great Lakes, and the Mississippi from its source to its mouth, 
were included in this tract, not to speak of the vast spaces towards 
the north. After the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, France 
ordered all English settlers out of the Ohio and Mississippi val- 
leys. The order was disregarded. Fort Duquesne (now Pittsburg) 
was captured by Washington; and, in 1759, the French posses- 
sions, attacked at three points simultaneously, succumbed to the 
English. Wolfe took Quebec, Amherst captured Montreal ; and 
France, by the Peace of 1763, finally surrendered all its vast 
wedge-shaped territory, from Hudson's Bay to the Gulf. So far, 
all was well ; but when the English began to occupy their newly 
acquired posts, an Ottawa chief, Pontiac, united together several 
Indian tribes, surprised the British garrisons, drove twenty thou- 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 83 

sand people from their homes, and for a year carried all before 

him. But in 1764, weakened by internal dissensions, the Indians 

made peace with General Bradstreet; and Pontiac himself was 

soon after assassinated by a Peoria Indian. 

Such is the historical field chosen by Parkman, and his powers 

were well suited to its development. There is in him 

^ , . , - AMstorian 

a vem of poetry : he appreciates the romance of sav- of French 

age life, and has the faculty of making his reader live, ^^^ Indian 
as it were, in the scenes that he portrays. He has 
been diligent in collecting materials, and careful in sifting them ; 
and the result which he offers is so attractive in style and capti- 
vating in interest as to command emphatic popularity. In taking 
up the various parts of his subject, he did not follow the chrono- 
logical order, his "The Conspiracy of Pontiac" having appeared 
in its first form in 185 1. Under the comprehensive heading of 
" France and England in North America," he then published 
successively ''The Pioneers of France in the New World," "The 
Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century," "La 
Salle and the Discovery of the Great West," "The Old Regime 
in Canada," " Count Frontinac and New France under Louis 
XIV.," and " Montcalm and Wolfe." Parkman is not weighty, 
but his scope is broad ; and he knows the value of historical 
perspective. 

John Lothrop Motley (i 814-18 7 7) was the most powerful of 
American historians. It was a power, however, not massive and 
ponderous, but alert and active : the power of the athlete, fleet, 
certain and concentrated. His writings show not merely the sedu- 
lous gatherer and skilful organizer of facts ; they reveal a man 
who was more than a writer — a man deeply versed in political 
science, in knowledge of human nature, in ethical and rehgious 
philosophy. In Motley, the scholar did not shut out the man of 
action and the man of the world ; his character and talents were 
symmetrical ; he shone in society : he absorbed, but was not 
suffocated by the best culture of America and Europe. His mind 
was flexible, hospitable and of vigorous grasp ; he was poised, at 
all times master of his faculties, and measured instinctively events 
and men. His remarkable personal beauty, graceful yet sincerely 



84 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

cordial manners and the rich texture of his conversation made 
him a figure of distinction, apart from his intellectual eminence. 

He was, at different times, minister at the courts of 
^^ ^ Madrid and of St. James, as was Lowell afterwards ; 

but unlike Lowell, he was made the victim of poHtical 
manoeuvring, and did not complete his diplomatic career. Motley 
was a man of high and ardent ambition : his life had always been 
brilliant, conspicuous and successful ; and this unexpected and 
unmerited slight near its close inflicted a wound upon his self- 
esteem that pained him more than it should have done. No one 
knew better than Motley that a man can be disgraced only by his 
own act ; and compared with the renown conferred upon him by 
his writings, the credit of a diplomatic appointment was hardly a 
worthy cause of pride ; or to lose it, of mortification. 

Like the majority of the more famous historians. Motley had a 
moderate fortune, which served the purpose of enabling him to 
travel and to make such researches as were needed for his pur- 
pose. The cultivation of imaginative literature can be carried on 
with little or no capital, and is certainly not apt to accumulate 
any ; but the apostle of history must have an income. The mate- 
rials and the preparations are so costly, and the time which must 
elapse before the work can be put forth is so long, that the writer 
would otherwise starve to death long before his first pages could 
see the light. Motley, like Parkman, first tried his pen on a novel, 
laying his scene among the pioneer pilgrims of New England ; but 
he soon began to see defined before him the enterprise which was 
to engage the energies of his life. The idea of writing a history of 

the Netherlands so fascinated his imagination that he 
fuVect!'^^'''^ could turn to nothing else ; he felt that this and this 

only was his appointed work. He did not seek the 
subject : it sought him. He began to prosecute studies with this 
end in view, but soon realized that he must seek his materials in 
the Netherlands themselves. Thither, accordingly, he betook him- 
self, and so interested the sovereign of Holland in his project that 
all the archives of the state were placed at his disposal. For years 
he lived and labored among these ancient documents until he 
became so imbued with the spirit of sixteenth-century life, and so 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 85 

familiar with the great figures that acted, triumphed, suffered and 
struggled in it, that his own age seemed almost strange to him. 
His investigations were not confined to the Netherlands ; he fol- 
lowed his quest all over Europe, until, at length, he was ready to 
sit down and write. 

The story he had to tell, beginning with the revolt of the Dutch 
against Philip II., continues with the portrayal of the fortunes of 
the successful revolutionists, and concludes with the life and death 
of John of Barneveld, A great and superb historical canvas is 
displayed before the student, with figures vividly and a great pic- 

powerfully but impartially painted ; and the successive ^tire of a 

.,.,,.,. , T magnificent 

episodes, with their bearing upon one another and struggle for 

their meaning in the evolution of humanity, are de- Hberty. 
picted and elucidated in a manner nothing less than masterly. 
To read these pages is to learn a deep lesson in human nature, 
as well as to become indelibly impressed with the specific occur- 
rences themselves. The darkest and the noblest passions of man- 
kind are revealed ; the marvellous cruelty of man to man ; and 
emerging from this sombre and bloody background, the fire of 
dauntless courage, the heroism of self-sacrifice, the indomitable 
resolve for liberty. Beside these books, the most of our literature 
looks pale and ineffective. The work is divided into three parts, 
— "The Rise of the Dutch Republic," ''The History of the 
United Netherlands," and " The Life and Death of John of 
Barneveld." 

Solidity and enduring strength are characteristics of the work of 
George Bancroft (i 800-1 891), the historian of our colonial and 
Revolutionary periods. He began life as a politician and a Dem- 
ocrat, and gained an insight into the practical workings of the 
government. In his youth, he visited Europe, and wrote moral 
and religious verses under the inspiration of what he saw, evincing, 
at least, a serious basis of character. But at the age of thirty-five 
he was already in the field with the first volume of his history, and 
the eighth was pubhshed in 1864. 

This statement sufficiently indicates the exhaustive and deliber- 
ative thoroughness of Bancroft's work. It took him nearly a third 
as long to write his book as it did the colonists to provide the 




86 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

material for its writing. Nor was any of this time wasted. Un- 
usual facilities of access to archives were allowed him, and he 
improved them to the utmost. Innumerable 
were the documents — the forgotten files of 
newspapers, the mouldy chronicles, the dry and 
dusty tomes — through which he pursued his 
patient way ; missing nothing, weighing every- 
thing, grouping all in order, and digesting the 
whole huge mass slowly and completely in the 
alembic of his memory, until it became fluid 
and tractable, and from it was distilled, drop 
by drop, the concise, clear and precious 
eorge ancro . esscncc whcrcwith his phials were filled. Or, 
we may compare his achievement to the building of the Great 
Pyramid, the whole elaborate and vast design of which was con- 
ceived and settled upon before the foundation lines 

An historical ^^^.^ chiselled out in the everlasting rock. And then 
pyramid. ° 

Stone after stone was hewn out of the quarry, and 

shaped with mathematical accuracy to its individual dimensions, 
and borne to its destination, and slowly and heed fully deposited 
in its appointed place. Course after course arose, with inner 
chambers and passage-ways, and a vital meaning and purpose 
inherent in every part, until the stupendous organism stood im- 
posing and flawless, a monument and a symbol. It is difficult to 
avoid strong terms in speaking of Bancroft's book. 

His method is essentially modern and philosophic ; he discerns 
in a given existing condition the germ of coming events, and 
shows the reasons of all that happens, both innate and circumstan- 
tial ; as the plant develops partly from the substance of the seed, 
and partly from the cooperation of the chemic forces of the soil 
and of the atmosphere. He demonstrates how 1 789 was the logi- 
cal outcome of 1620, and leaves us with a clue that 
may guide us from 1789 to the passing hour. The 
sentences in which he embodies his narrative are quiet, serious 
and simple : the unornamented but austerely refined vehicle of 
facts and thoughts. It sometimes recalls the compact and preg- 
nant texture of Bacon's workmanship : but it never glows with the 



SOME STATESMEN AND HISTORIANS. 87 

inner fire of Bacon's matchless wit. Bancroft keeps both feet on 
the soUd earth ; but he recognizes the Divine force working within, 
and moulding the ignorant complex of mortal events, and his cold- 
ness is the coldness of resolute self-repression, not of bloodlessness. 

Hubert Howe Bancroft (b. 1823) is personally interesting as 
a self-educated man who, in the face of many obstacles, has ac- 
complished a work of unexampled magnitude. In proportion to 
its newness, its population, its social, commercial and historical 
importance, no part of this planet has been so exhaustively treated 
as the Pacific States have been by Mr. H. H. Bancroft, xhe historian 
If this region is destined to become the seat of the of the Pacific 
empire and the civilization of the future, generations ^'^^*®^* 
to come will have cause to be grateful to Mr. Bancroft for his 
forty ponderous volumes. And in any' case his labors will have 
been of great usefulness : for no coming writer on the Pacific 
settlements need go further than to his books for material. It is 
all there, the chaff sifted from the wheat, ready to be made up in 
forms and qualities to suit purchasers. It is encyclopaedic in scope 
and detail, a marvel of human energy and intelligence. Much of 
it has been written out by Mr. Bancroft's own hand ; the rest has 
received his intimate supervision. It can scarcely be included in 
any course of reading, but there is a. great deal of profitable read- 
ing in it. 

"The History of Spanish Literature," by George Ticknor 
(1791-1871), may be mentioned here, as a careful and creditable 
performance. It is impartial, judicious and appreciative. 

S. A. Allibone (1816-1889) published a "Dictionary of 
Authors," which is one of the most useful and trustworthy books 
of reference in the language. 

Although Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe (b. 181 2) does not 
technically belong to either of the categories discussed in this 
chapter, she is so identified with the cause of Abolitionism in 
literature, that she cannot be better placed than here. In her 
youth she lived near the borders of a slave-holding state, and her 
girhsh imagination, already attuned to a key of transcendental 
morahty, was inflamed by the cruelties and injustice of which she 
heard many reports, and some of which, perhaps, she saw. Though 



88 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

aware, as her book shows, that the great, patriarchal slave-holders 
were often as humane in their treatment of their property as 
circumstances permitted, yet the evil of traffic in human beings 
rankled in her memory, and became blacker and more portentous 
the longer she mused over it. Natural taste and a literary envi- 
ronment had led her to try her hand at sentimental and descriptive 
sketch-writing ; and finally, when nearly forty years of age, and at 
a time when public feeling was excited by the Clay Compro- 
•• Uncle x^\'i>t bills, she bethought herself to preach a sermon 

Tom's against slavery, as she understood it, in the guise of a 

* ^^* work of fiction. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was the well- 

known result. Taking as a text the axiom that no man has a 
right to " own " another, she proceeded to draw a vivid picture of 
the consequences of slave-holding. A more emotional, impas- 
sioned, dramatic book has not often been written. But the almost 
fanatic earnestness of the writer was contagious ; and the plot of 
her tale, overflowing with sensational and sentimental interest, and 
harrowing in its pictures of human depravity and innocent suffer- 
ing, arrested public attention. There was enough truth in the 
details and accessories of the story to render it formidable to 
opponents ; it appealed to the natural human instinct against in- 
justice, and it seemed a confirmation, in telling and readable form, 
of the most reckless charges of the Abohtionists. The book did 
harm in some ways, and good in others. It did harm by prompt- 
ing the people of the North to believe in the depravity of their 
fellow-citizens of the South : it did good by showing the evils in 
which the general adoption of slavery might land us. The book 
was read by myriads of persons, and its publishers still are said to 
sell many thousands yearly : it has been translated into forty 
languages, and it was undoubtedly a factor in the quarrel which 
resulted in the Civil War. From the literary point of view, its 
merit is perhaps not great, either as to style or construction. 
Mrs. Stowe has, since then, written many novels far superior in 
these respects to "Uncle Tom's Cabin"; but the best of them 
can hardly be regarded as sound literature. They are amusing, 
gossipy and humorous, and have a conspicuous moral motive, but 
contain Httle to preserve them from oblivion. 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 89 



VI. 
POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 

The birth, in America, of true poetry was long delayed. No 
theory satisfactorily accounts for this. Poetry has appeared in- 
differently in almost every environment conceivable. The victims 
of oppression have' brought it forth, and so have the 
oppressors. It has flourished amidst country poverty, birth of 
and it has illuminated the opulence of cities. Times po^^^y- 
of action, danger and excitement have been fruitful of it ; and it 
has blossomed luxuriantly in depths of peace and tranquillity. 
Philosophy has found in it its purest expression, and it has 
moulded into forms of grace and beauty the evanescent froth 
of society. Deniers of God have turned to it for solace, and it 
has even burst through the rigid crust of dogmatic theology. 
Like God himself, poetry may say, '' Though thou flee to the 
uttermost ends of the earth, lo ! I am there ! " 

Why, then, during nearly two centuries following the landing of 
the Pilgrims did we have no poetry in America ? Verses, as we 
have seen, were occasionally written ; didactic homilies in rhyme ; 
political jingles, sentimental clap-trap, and the like. Even Hop- 
kinson's " Hail Columbia " and Francis Scott Key's " Star-Spangled 
Banner" are nothing apart from their musical setting. The first 
poem, rightly so called, to appear on these shores was written by 
a lad of eighteen, was known by the somewhat repellent tide of 
" Thanatopsis " and was published in 1817. Something of this 
dearth may be due to the fact that the Americans were an English- 
speaking people, and that the mother country supplied 
poets enough for two. Perhaps, also, the novelty of f^j. ^eiay. 
their adopted country, its unsettled state, the lack of 
mutual harmony and understanding between it and its foster- 



90 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

children, may have contributed to their silence. It is likewise to 
be said that nearly every one who was qualified to busy himself 
with hterature was either a clergyman or the son of one ; for the 
clergymen of New England, hke the priests of the Middle Ages, 
were the chief depositaries of learning : and since the clergy were 
for the most part disposed to encourage only such poetry as was 
of a religious or sacred character, there w^as Httle chance for the 
muse in that direction. But be the explanation what it may, 
poetry there was none. 

Nor have we, even up to the present day, produced any large 
No great body of poetry of the highest class. We have had 
volume of two or three popular poets, and a good many popular 
1 now. poems. A lyric or two of Poe's touch the high levels. 

Emerson was always original, and occasionally sublime and ex- 
quisite at once. Bryant, Longfellow and a score of others have 
now and again written something truly beautiful or great. But 
when we think of the great English poets, even those of the last 
hundred years only, our self-esteem diminishes. And yet we feel 
that in this land, if anywhere, great poetry, and plenty of it, ought 
to be produced. Possibly the very grandeur and magnitude of 
the obvious themes discourage the candidate's imagination, and 
will continue to do so until some Daniel Webster of poetry con- 
secrates himself to the enterprise. 

Whatever else true poetry shows, it must always show imagina- 
tion. Its presence is accompanied by a magical lift of the soul, 
dissolving material conditions, and reaching the truth 
of poetry."^ behind the fact. From it emanates "the light that 
never was, on sea or land." It transmutes into pure 
gold the base metal of life : it redeems the universe out of the 
"poliverse" of heterogeneous phenomena. At the touch of- its 
fairy wand, things assume their proper shapes, as we read in the 
children's story-books — or did read until the present flishion in 
children's story-books set in : it reveals the immortal reality within 
the transient husk. It delights the mind with spiritual grace, the 
heart with transcendent beauty and melody. It gives, as Coventry 
Patmore puts it, in a lovely paradox, " the power of saying things 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 91 

too simple and too sweet for words." Poetry, in short, is the 
language of Revelation ; and true poets are seers and prophets. 

Manifestly, then, poetry cannot be taught, or learned, or imi- 
tated : it is a Divine gift, if ever there was one, and the endow- 
ment is always a mystery. The celestial seed falls and flourishes 
sometimes in most unlikely soils ; and again, men who to our 
halting perception seem to possess all the organization and quali- 
fications of poets can never catch a note of the mighty music. 
We cannot know what " makes " a poet ; least of all 
can he himself know it. Perhaps it is largely a faculty thepoet? 
of self-extinction ; of putting out of sight the personal, 
individual or egoistic element, and thus removing the barriers 
which obstruct the inflow of the grand, impersonal human nature, 
wherein dwells Deity itself; and as the notes of the organ-pipes 
vary with their proportions, so the poet's song is modified by his 
temperament, education and surroundings. But these speculations 
take us beyond our depth. We have to do here with the American 
poetry of the first half of this century. 

William Cullen Bryant (1794-18 78). The ancestors of 
Bryant, on both sides, were among the first of the Plymouth Rock 
Pilgrims. The moral and religious training they underwent, the 
narrow, ascetic and arduous circumstances of their lives, should 
be borne in mind in contemplating this inheritor of their traits 
and traditions. The consequences of such an inheritance would 
naturally be to dispose their subject to reticence, self- repression, 
stoicism, reverence for just authority, and the fear of God, in the 
full old Calvinistic sense. 

Bryant's mother was an indefatigable and able housewife, with 
seven children, and everything to do. " Made Cullen ^j^g condi- 
a coat"; " Wove and spun"; *' Sewed on a shirt"; tionsofMs 
"Washed and ironed," run the items of her diary. ^^^ ^ ^^' 
His father was a country doctor, and seems, either owing to the 
nature of his profession, or spontaneously, to have been able to 
talk and think about other thin2:s beside theology and doctrine. 
At all events, he had some classical education, and in his library 



92 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

were specimens of the British historians, essayists and poets. He 
was something more than an iron-hearted, wooden-faced text- 
quoting machine ; he had sensibilities and occasionally betrayed 
them. 

He was poor and not miserly. He did the best he could for 
his son. When he christened him, he probably expected him to 
become a doctor like himself, William Cullen being the name of 
a physician of a previous generation. William himself afterwards 
thought he would be a lawyer, but, having tried it for nine years, 
decided to be editor of a newspaper. But this was later. The 
Bryants lived in the western part of Massachusetts, nearly a mile 
above sea-level, in a place called Cummington. There were 
forests all about, and characteristic New England scenery, perhaps 
more picturesque than the average. Doubtless, at any rate, such 
beauty as there was must have been out of doors, and not within. 
The home was the dwelling-place of vigorous and self-respecting 
poverty, and admitted no charms of form or color. The family 
customs and demeanor were substantially those of their ancestry. 
There was no demonstrativeness, — rather a kindly, serious, taci- 
turn, mutual toleration. The social atmosphere resembled that of 
the geographical region : it was somewhat cool and attenuated. 
There were hearts around the hearthstone, but they were not 
encouraged to beat audibly. It was the home of virtue, not of 
emotion ; it fostered quiet strength and self-reliance, not tender, 
sympathetic dependence. The father and mother were good 
friends ; one doubts whether they could ever have been passionate 
lovers. 

If William ever had a childhood, he kept the fact to himself. 

At eighteen months, he knew his letters. At four, he 

His preco- attended the district school, and became a good reader 
city. ' ° 

and speller. At five, he could repeat Watts's Hymns. 

At eight, he made verses ; at ten, he delivered a rhymed address. 

At fourteen, he wrote a political satire in verse, in the style of 

Pope ; and about the same period, he composed, in poetical form, 

an " Ode to Connecticut River," and some lines on "Drought." 

Apart from these performances, which are of no intrinsic impor- 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 93 

tance, except to indicate that his heart was not bound up in 
childish things — apart from these precocious and empty echoes, 
and the household chores that fell to his share, he had nothing to 
do, out of school hours, but to wander about in the woods. No 
fervent boyish friendships came to him, and since he was the 
eldest but one of the children, he could find little companionship 
at home. He had no ineffable boyish love-affair. His only asso- 
ciate, in whose society he could relax his reserve, was the wild 
and beautiful nature that met him whenever he turned from the 
threshold of his father's house. A feeling for the beauty of nature 
— a beauty the more impressive because it discloses itself only to 
the seeing and loving eye — a beauty voiceless to the ear, but 
eloquent to the soul — a beauty impersonal, and yet mystically 
allied to humanity — a recognition of this beauty grew up in the 
lonely mind of the boy, fostered, no doubt, by a faculty of appre- 
ciation innate in his organization. He saw it, and rejoiced in it 
with a quiet and secret joy, but, as yet, it did not set in vibration 
in him any chord of responsive expression. He could feel, but 
he could not comprehend, and therefore he still was dumb. 

Thus he saw that nature, however wordless, was always in move- 
ment ; each day, each moment, there was a change. The brooks 
rushed to the river, the river flowed to the sea, the sea ebbed and 
flooded. The bare trees of winter put forth buds in the spring, 
and becajne verdurous in summer, and in autumn robed them- 
selves in gold and crimson ; but with winter again the splendor 
was blighted, the leaves fell, and snow and rain slowly 
incorporated them with the soil. He saw the dews tractedby 
of night evaporated by the sun, and drawn to upper the beauties 
regions where they were transfigured into clouds, 
whence they descended once more in showers, and so maintained 
the endless circle. The flowers bloomed, and withered, and 
bloomed again. The wind blew where it listed, bearing fra- 
grance, bearing plague, journeying everywhere, resting nowhere. 
The stems of the trees were like the pillars of a living temple. 
The sunshine flooding the landscape was as a smile of peace and 
joy ; the icy bitterness of December storms, beating down from 



94 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

low and leaden skies, was like the blight of a loveless and unbe- 
lieving heart, bringing the death that was in itself to the innocent 
beauty of living things ; but a death that was not eternal. Were 
all these things a symbol? Could they be bHnd and meaningless? 

He thought of the race of men, their birth, their vicissitudes, 
their death. Beginning far backward in the immensity of time, 
each successive generation rejoiced and suffered, loved and hated, 
aspired and despaired, triumphed and failed ; for a moment they 
flashed, a glittering turmoil, on the brink of the 
man^*^^° abyss, and then were swallowed up forever. But 
though the individual perished, the endless stream 
of the race kept on, and to each age its experiences came as 
fresh as to that first created. So it had been in the past, and 
so it would be forever. Was this the vanity of vanities, or did 
the ceaseless round of unavoidable life, of inevitable death, have 
a deeper meaning? Was it mere sound and fury, signifying 
nothing? or did the God through whom man had being speak 
to man through the images of the material world, and the pro- 
cession of human history, revealing to him who had ears to hear 
the vital secrets of his private nature and destiny ? 

The religious faith in which the boy had been brought up gave 
no sympathetic or tender aspect to the Deity. He had the stern- 
ness and remoteness of a judge who sits apart, who consigns to 
eternal punishment those whom His Son has not redeemed, and 
relents only to those whom Christ's blood has ransomed. But if 
this were all, to what purpose was this wondrous phantasmagory 
of the universe ? Why did it seem to foretoken a hope, a truth, 
a good, a mercy beyond the dogmas of the creed, if it really 
meant no such matter? Was not the universe the work of God's 
hand, and would He create an empty mockery? Might not man 
learn to look through nature up to nature's God, and behold a 
vision of hitherto unsuspected love and grace ? 

Read in the light of to-day, after Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats 
A prophet ^^^ Tennyson have spoken, these reflections seem 
inthewil- obvious and commonplace enough. But in 1812, 
derness. Y^Q^it of those voices had been heard in New Eng- 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 95 

land : the young Bryant must needs reason the problem out for 
himself. To have done so is evidence of a courageous and 
independent, but deeply reverential mind. We may conceive 
his meditations to have arrived at this stage, and there to have 
paused. Had he not possessed the genius of a poet, the pause 
would have been final. It might have been so even as it was, 
had no influence from without come to send the quickening 
thrill through the solution of his thoughts, and make them spring 
into creative form. But this influence was not wanting. 

Wordsworth's lyrical ballads had been written, and a copy of 
the volume fell into the boy's hands. It came like a veritable 
messenger from heaven. Here was a man vv^ho had seen as the 
boy had seen, felt as he had felt, who had grappled 
like him with the riddle of the world, and had loftily tion from 
and serenely solved it. This was far more to the across the 
lonely New England youth than the mere aesthetic 
pleasure of reading good poetry. It was the assurance to him that 
his musings had not been in vain ; that the truth he had dimly 
guessed at was a truth indeed ; that all, and more than all that 
he had dreamed in Massachusetts forests, had been apprehended 
and interpreted by the shores of the English lakes. Long after- 
wards Bryant confessed to his friend Dana that on reading this 
volume " a thousand springs seemed to gush up at once into my 
heart, and the face of nature of a sudden changed into a strange 
freshness and hfe." 

But, as the productions of the English poet were a confirmation 
not less than a revelation to the American poet-that-was-to-be, so 
the experience which the latter had independently reached saved 
him from becoming the mere imitator of his great predecessor. 
Bryant is not less original than Wordsworth, though they move in 
a similar direction, and are concerned with aUied themes. The 
American retained his separateness ; there is a touch and a quality 
in his work that always distinguishes it from that of 
the other poet. In its spirit it is abstracted and ele- ^aU^."^^^ 
vated ; but in its substance it is thoroughly Ameri- 
can. Much of it, indeed, could hardly have been written elsewhere 



96 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

than in America, or by any other than an American : it is 
animated by the breath of the New World, as well as shaped by 
its conditions. It must also be said that in respect of profundity 
of thought and breadth of view — in the latter especially — Words- 
worth excels Bryant. In purity, dignity and austere elevation 
Bryant is seldom deficient ; but he is so uniformly narrow and 
monotonous that, by common consent, his first poem, "Thana- 
topsis," is regarded as being not only, in technical handling, 
equal to his best, but as supplying the keynote to everything of 
value that he wrote afterwards. It is hardly too much to say that 
when you have read " Thanatopsis," you have read Bryant. 

Not the less is "Thanatopsis" a great poem: so great as to 
be an event and a landmark in Hterature. It brings man and his 
Creator close together, after the long and dreary interval of their 
Character of s^^^i^g antagonism, with the universe of nature as a 
"Thanatop- middle term between them. It hfts the individual, in 
^^^'" spirit, to the dimensions of mankind, and shows the 

vital union between our surroundings and ourselves. Its com- 
prehensive view of death impHes an interpretation of life : Avhat 
we had deemed the chief of terrors is transformed into the 
majestic and orderly fulfilment of the purposes of an infinite and 
benign God, who disposes all things for our good. Grandeur is 
of the essence of this poetry, and its grave, direct, elemental 
language fitly clothes the sublime simplicity of the conception. 
It rises high above the passions, the anxieties, the petty gratifi- 
cations of existence. In contemplating our common human 
destiny, the personal selfhood dwindles into nothingness. The 
confused and warring cries of our life — the sum of jarring 
discords — is found to unite in a mighty diapason of sound — a 
symphony of joy and faith in immortality. 

But the whole of life, and the whole of true poetry, is not 

grandeur. As we read Bryant, there grows on us a perception of 

something missing : it is the human touch. His genius 

not fathoUc ^^^^ ^^° flexibility ; it deals with the immensities and the 

eternities, but not with the limitations, the pathos, the 

humor of mortal creatures. There is nothing in him of Shake- 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF CENTURY. 97 

speare's catholicity ; he beholds but one vision, and chants but 
one song. His imagination has dissolved the barriers between 
matter and spirit, but it cannot perform the humbler yet not 
less gracious miracle of following the touching career of spirit yet 
incarnate, and typifying in homely examples the comedy and 
tragedy of experience. Comedy and tragedy alike are beyond 
the scope of Bryant's mind. The text of his discourse is, indeed, 
often drawn from homely and simple things ; but he will not 
delay in them : he hastens to ally them with final issues, and to 
point the unfailing moral. He is as a man whose sight has been 
paralyzed by some sudden intolerable blaze of glory, who thence- 
forth is bUnd to all else than that. But the weakness of the flesh 
is as dear to us, in its way, as the fortitude of the soul, and is as 
fit a theme for the poet. 

The narrowness of Bryant's view is the corollary of his char- 
acter. Those who approached him became conscious of a chilli- 
ness in his proximity, not voluntary on his part, nor by any means 
incompatible with sincere and kindly good-will, but constant and 
unmistakable. In all the relations of his life, from its beginning 
to its venerable close, Bryant proved himself worthy of the 
respect, esteem and honor that attended him. We may even 
say that 'he was loved; but it was with the kind of His Puritan 
love that one bestows upon a noble sentiment. His characteris- 
morality and integrity were without blemish ; he faith- 
fully fulfilled the duties incumbent on him ; he gained renown 
in poUtical journalism ; he married, and enjoyed a serene do- 
mestic happiness ; but there was ice in his veins. Only in 
response to the kindling of his imagination did his heart begin 
to throb ; and it was by the abstract, not the concrete, that 
his imagination was kindled. The Puritan strain had been too 
strong for him ; he could not shake it off; nay, he was prob- 
ably unaware of its operation. But that which, in his ances- 
tors, had been iron suppression of unruly impulses, was in him 
modified into calm conformity of outward demeanor with inward 
disposition ; in other words, the unruly impulses had been starved 
to death before he was born, and with them that warm, brotherly 



98 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

glow of emotion that stimulates mutual love between man and 

man. Men were scarcely real to Bryant ; they were elements and 

illustrations of a grand scheme or drama, which it was his chaste 

dehght to portray. 

But after admitting his shortcomings, his merits are conspicuous. 

His art was admirable ; his poems are symmetrical and complete 

in idea as well as in form. The finishing, idealizinsr 

ffis merits. °' * 

touches are given so lightly and naturally that there is 

no sense of effort. His descriptions of nature are not often sur- 
passed ; he detects and conveys the life underlying phenomena. 
So unpretentious is his language, it sometimes seems as ardess as 
the talk of children ; yet dignity and significance are never absent 
from it, and at times it flows in waves of enchanting melody. His 
lines "To a Waterfowl," "To the Fringed Gentian," "The Death 
of the Flowers," "An Evening Reverie," — these and many other 
poems of his are consummate poetry. In " The Land of Dreams " 
the atmosphere and movement are exquisite, the conception fault- 
less, and the poet's imagination fuses into beauty all the elements 
of the composition. Criticism may rest before such a production. 
Bryant's outward life was not rich in incident. After abandon- 
ing law, and taking the editorship of the New York " Evening 
Post," his career was one of uninterrupted prosperity. For fifty 
years he was a distinguished citizen of New York, a just and fear- 
less critic of pohtics, a leader of literary society. He 
calf^^^ " iT^ade six visits to Europe, and travelled extensively 
in America. He wrote prose descriptions of his jour- 
neys, which were printed in the " Post " and some of which were 
afterwards collected in volumes. In the latter years of his life 
he undertook and completed a translation in blank verse of the 
" Iliad " and " Odyssey," which still remains, in most respects, the 
best in existence. He was accustomed to spend the winter months 
in town ; in summer, he went to his country house on Long Island : 
in the autumn, he often visited his ancestral home at Cummington, 
which he had bought some years after his parents' death. He was 
simple in his habits, plain and unassuming in his address. In figure 
he was slender, with a slight stoop. He early became bald, and 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 99 

in later years his white beard and hair gave him a patriarchal look. 
His forehead was high, narrow and impending, his eyebrows heavy, 
his eyes dark and keen, his nose aquiHne. Some traces of New 
England country brogue remained in his conversational speech, 
but were not perceptible in his public addresses, which, as in the 
case of the eulogy of the novelist Cooper, delivered in 1852, were 
eloquent and impressive. 

Bryant was but eighteen when he wrote his first great poem, 
which, in maturity of thought and style, left no advance to be 
made. This has been held to be a remarkable fact. But imagin- 
ation is never more vigorous than in youth, and poetic intuition 
often anticipates the results of experience. The young poet's 
home- training, as well as his inborn taste, gave him plain and 
telling words ; and the nature of his subject, lofty but elemental, 
did the rest. Bryant never became sophisticated : hfe taught him 
little : in all essential ways he was as young, and as old, when he 
came to die, as on that day when he scribbled " Thanatopsis " on 
a sheet of paper on his father's desk, and put it in a pigeon-hole, 
and never spoke of it until it was found there, years afterwards, 
and brought him fame. 

Note. — Several of Bryant's best poems, including "Thanatopsis," may be 
had for ten cents in No. 47 of Efifingham Maynard & Co.'s " English Classics 
Series." The pamphlet is prepared for class use : there is a good biography of 
the author and valuable notes on the poems ; the readings are from authorized 
readings. D. Appleton & Co. publish a cheap complete edition of the poems. 

Exercise. — State in your own language the thought and 
imagery in "Thanatopsis." In what measure is it written? In 
what other poems does the author use the same measure? Do 
you find a variety of measures? What is the usual theme of his 
poems? Compare his "June" and Lowell's in " The Vision of 
Sir Launfal." Do you know of another instance of June being 
celebrated as a good month to die in ? In what poems do you 
find death mentioned? Read the "Forest Hymn" and the 
" Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood." Do you find other 
poems about woods ? How does he regard them ? Do you find 
narrative poems? Lyrics of the afi'ections? Patriotic lyrics or 



100 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

odes? Which do you consider the most musical of his poems? 
Expressive of the strongest feehng? The most majestic? 

Is his poetry impressive? Dramatic? Impassioned? Highly 
colored? Optimistic? Sensuous? Simple? Serene? Profound? 
Original ? Reflective ? Impulsive ? Humane ? Melodious ? 
Varied? Devotional? Orthodox? Joyous? Depressing? 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882). The amiable 
and studious youth who graduated near the head of his class at 
Bovvdoin, in 1825, and delivered an address on " American Litera- 
ture," was so well thought of by his instructors, that they sent him. 
to Europe to qualify himself for a professorship in the college. 
He, also, had a modest confidence in his abilities and destiny. He 
told a friend that he " would be eminent " in something. Through 
life, he measured himself accurately ; and the credit his writings 
brought him seldom fell below his forecast, and generally ex- 
ceeded it. 

He went to Europe in 1826, visited France, Spain, Italy, Ger- 
many and England, and came back in 1829. For upwards of 
five years he taught modern languages in Bowdpin. He had 
married in 1831. In 1834, he was offered a pro- 
Biograph- fessorship at Harvard, and again went to Europe, 
taking his wife with him, on an eighteen- months trip, 
to be devoted to studying the literature of Holland and the 
north of Europe. Mrs. Longfellow died in Rotterdam in 1835. 

He returned to America the follow- 
ing year, lived in the Craigie House 
in Cambridge, and did his work as 
professor for six years. A third time 
he went abroad; but in 1843 was 
in Cambridge again, the husband of 
another wife. After eleven years 
more of the professorship, he re- 

Longfellow's House. , ,. _ ^^••■i.i. -r 

Signed It. In 1 861, he lost his wife ; 
she was burned in his presence, while sitting in the Hbrary. Seven 
years later, with his three daughters, he made a final visit to 




POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 101 

Europe. He died in his own home, at the age of seventy-five, 
the most popular poet in America, and one of the most popular 
in the world. 

Longfellow was a prolific author, and a diffuse, though never 
a careless writer. Setting aside some unimportant juvenilities, 
written before his college days, and some early essays and transla- 
tions, his first book was a collection of sketches written during his 
first residence abroad, and called " Outre- Mer," published in 
1834. "Hyperion," a semi-autobiographic romance, appeared 
in 1839 ^ ^^^^5 "Voices of the Night," a group of poems written 
during the previous few years. In 1841, came " Ballads, and Other 
Poems," and some poems on the subject of slavery, in the Aboli- 
tion vein ; and in the next year, a play, "The Spanish Student." 
In 1843, the year of his second marriage, he edited an anthology 
of "The Poets and Poetry of Europe." "The Belfry of Bruges, 
and Other Poems," came next; and in 1847 was published his 
first long poem, " Evangehne." A novel, " Kavanagh," belongs 
to 1849. "The Seaside and the Fireside" poems followed ; and 
"The Golden Legend," one of a trilogy called "The Christus," 
came out in the winter of 1851-52. "Hiawatha," his Indian 
epic, bore date 1855; and "The Courtship of Miles Standish " 
was three years later. In 1863 he wrote "Tales of a Wayside 
Inn"; in 1866, •' Flower-de-Luce " ; in 1868, "New 
England Tragedies " (another part of " The Christus ") ; ^^ ^0 Vs 
" The Divine Tragedy " (the third part of the trilogy), 
in 1872; and in the same year, "Three Books of Song." In 
1874 appeared "Aftermath"; in 1875, "-The Masque of Pan- 
dora"; in 1878, " Keramos " and "A Book of Sonnets"; in 
1880, "Ultima Thule." Besides the above, he translated Dante's 
" Divine Comedy " into Enghsh blank verse, and pubHshed the 
third and last volume of it in 1867. 

At heart, Longfellow was of the people — of that great average 
class that constitutes, substantially, the population of the world. 
The range of his affections, sympathies and sentiments neither 
rose above, nor fell below, this medium line. This fact was the 
source of his wide influence — this, combined with the other fact, 



102 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

that in education, culture, taste, gift of literary expression, and in 

that happy harmony of elements that go to make 

The poet of prenius, he was far above the average. In other 
the people. & ' fc> 

words, he had the power of saying, in lucid, pure and 

melodious phrase, what everybody felt, but could not so suc- 
cessfully say. Longfellow's success shows that few writers have 
had his pecuhar association of qualities. Martin F. Tupper 
addressed as large an audience : but his fatuous, complacent 
sermonizing caught the proletariat only, and caught them on the 
lower levels of their intelligence ; while Longfellow — eloquent, 
sincere, manly and inspiriting — pleases the aristocracy as well 
as the plebeians of the mind. In short, Tupper was a doggerel- 
monger ; Longfellow, a poet. 

Longfellow, like Bryant, was of old New England stock; and 
both were descended on the female side from John Alden and 
Priscilla. But the Longfellows were people of some means, and 
much social consideration. On the mother's — the Wadsworth — 

side they were of a military flavor ; though Mrs. Long- 
des^cent ^ fellow herself was for peace. In her youth she was a 

beautiful, vivacious, high-hearted girl, fond of society, 
given to poetry, music and dancing. Later, she became an 
invalid, but was never a lugubrious one ; she loved nature, and 
believed in the good of human nature ; she was cheerful, tranquil 
and gently devout. 

The father was a sound and sensible lawyer, a Representative 
in Congress, a cordial, courteous, high-spirited gentleman of the 
old school. His domestic rule was strict but kindly. Evidendy, 
therefore, the young Longfellow had a more humane start in life 
than the young Bryant. There was in him none of the other's 
Indian stoicism, his instinct of privacy and self-defence, nor his 
precocious solemnity ; he was cheerful, hopeful and social ; his 
demeanor was frank and affectionate ; he was impressionable, 
and therefore easily depressed ; but his constitutional buoyancy 
would presently bring him up again. There were no mysteries in 
his character — nothing that he need blush to declare, nor anything 
so profound as to be beyond his power to declare it. He was 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 103 

sunshiny, and loved sunshine, though he was susceptible of a 
delicate pathos, as his readers know. He was the antipodes of 
vulgarity : under any test, his nature always rang true : he was 
quite as ''good " as Irving, and not less refined and amiable ; but 
he had not Irving's satiric vein, nor comic, imperturbable humor. 
His mobile mind interested itself in a wide variety of things, but 
dredged no sunless depths ; nor, in spite of " Excelsior," did it 
scale any sublime heights. Accepting him for what he was, there 
was not, at the time of his graduation from the little rustic college, 
a more charming, gentle, companionable young fellow than Henry 
Wadsworth Longfellow. 

His constituent parts so harmonized and rhymed together that 
he was himself a human poem, as well as a poet : or we may say 
he was a poet in consequence of being a poem. He 
must express himself, and his expression could only ^^ ^r^c- 
be poetry. Not that he was a helpless, mechanical 
rhymester, like Watts of th^ Hymn Book; he was especially 
spontaneous. And he was, in his measure, as sincere and earnest, 
though far from being as serious as Bryant. Like Hawthorne, 
he would as soon have told a falsehood as have published any- 
thing he had not felt to be true ; and he was like Emerson in 
being unconscious of a conscience ; it remained in abeyance in 
him for lack of occupation. He was innocent as a maiden; 
indeed, in spite of his manliness, there was a touch of the maidenly 
in Longfellow. 

His poetry, after all detractions, remains a wonderful product. 
Some of the best poems just escape being platitudinous prose. 
We call over the words, note the metre, gauge the sentiment, but 
the secret of the charm eludes us. There was once an old lady 
who objected to Shakespeare because he was so full of quotations ; 
and it has been urged in Longfellow's behalf that it is his poems 
themselves that have made their sentiment seem commonplace. 
But this goes too far. Elementary truths, when j-amiUar 
clothed in new and fit language, gain new life and truths in 
beneficent power. A picture hung long in a cer- ^^^w dress, 
tain place ceases to catch the eye ; and a formula of truth 



104 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

long familiar to the ear ceases to reach the understanding. But 
hang the picture elsewhere, and word the truth afresh, and our 
eyes and ears again take hold on them. Now, Longfellow 
experienced the old famihar experiences of life, but they were 
nevertheless, to him, an independent discovery. And, being 
the guileless, spontaneous man that he was, and gifted into the 
bargain with poetic genius, he had the innocent and fortunate 
audacity to utter them in his own independent way. A self-con- 
scious, distrustful soul would first have made enquiry whether this 
thing had been thought or said before, and on being answered in 
the affirmative, would have dropped it, in fear of compromising 
his originality. One advantage of genius is, it never disquiets 
itself about originality. 

To enjoy and profit by Longfellow's poetry, we must take it as 
we do fresh air and warm sunshine. To analyze is to alter them, 
and so destroy their virtue. It is pedantry to cavil at Longfellow 
for creating poetry out of materials hitherto deemed unpoetical. 
He felt the poem ; he made it ; nor can the keenest scalpel, by 
dissecting it into something else, prove it unpoetical. 

By giving intelligent and graceful form to catholic thoughts, he 
brought into accord the heart and the intellect of mankind. In- 
tellectual patricians grow to consider themselves .of another flesh 
and blood than the groundlings ; and the latter fancy that the 
former dwell in an atmosphere that they could not breath. Long- 
fellow proved the unsubstantiality of these principles, and, by 
illustrating the simpler, more primitive sentiments and affections, 
vindicated the solidarity of the race on the basis of 
theheart. ^^ human heart. His optimism was from first to 
last unfaltering ; there are no morbid passages either 
in his career or in his poetry. Indeed, the unity of his hfe and 
his work is remarkable, and indicates that he drew his inspira- 
tion far more often from the region of the emotions than from 
that of the brain. 

The influence upon his genius of foreign literatures, the German 
especially, is marked, but cannot be held beneficial. Its effect 
was to hamper the freedom of his expression. None of his trans- 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 105 

lations equal his original work. Freedom of expression was more 
indispensable to Longfellow than to most poets, because the idea 
in his poems is so wedded to the expression as to be practically 
inseparable from it. To be anything, it was essential that he 
should be himself exclusively. His German renderings are both 
quaint and scholarly, but in ceasing to -be German they do not 
become Longfellow. His translation of Dante is a faithful and 
noble piece of work, yet it is wearisome to read, because the spirit 
of the Italian tongue differs so radically from the English. As 
regards Longfellow's prose, its chief value is to throw light upon 
the charm of his poetry. It is feeble prose, and inevitably slips 
out of the memory. He could do nothing without metre to help 
him : without metre his faults become inveterate, and his virtues 
die away. So there are men who are good orators in the presence 
of an audience, but poor talkers in private. They need a stimu- 
lus and a responsibiUty in order to get out the good that is in 
them. 

Longfellow excelled in lyrical poetry, and twice at least he was 
eminently successful in descriptive story-telling in 
unrhymed verse. Such poems as the " Building of . ^^? ^ ^ 
the Ship" and "The Skeleton in Armor" stand 
somewhere between the two. His sonnets are uniformly sound 
and good, and some of them are perfect in their degree, though 
inferior in spiritual exaltation to the great sonnets of Wordsworth, 
Milton and Shakespeare. In fact, Longfellow was the poet not 
of the spirit, but of the letter. His poems are never disembodied 
souls ; they always wear their material garments. At times, so 
sweet and pure is their form, the soul irradiates the 
flesh ; but it makes no attempt to leave it. They ^u^an!^"^ 
belong to earth, not to heaven, nor to hell. Long- 
fellow was too sympathetically human to rise to the rapt vision 
of the prophet. The kindly, smiling, pathetic earth was ever 
before his eyes, and its voices were his voice. Doubtless, the 
human is the habitation of the Divine : but Longfellow's gentle 
and tender nature dwelt in the day and its doings, and he enter- 
tained his angels unawares. 



106 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

"The Psalm of Life," the first to be famous of his poems, is not 
didactic. It is the appeal for sympathy of one who struggles and 
aspires. The didactic writer assumes to stand on a level higher 
than that of his audience, and from his superior experience to 
formulate rules for their guidance and edification. But Longfellow 
is one of his own audience. His hope, his effort, his sadness, are 
not of the past, but of the passing moment. It is his manifest 
identification of himself with us that gives him the power to move 
us. The difference between this and didacticism is similar to that 
between a living voice and a lifeless page of print. Tupper would 
have written " The Psalm of Life " didacdcally ; Longfellow wrote 
it in a sudden gush of emotion as it stands ; and it will stand a 
long time yet. 

In " The Skeleton in Armor," and its kindred, Longfellow in- 
dulges his romantic vein. It is not his strong point. As soon as 
he comes into competition with other writers, he loses ground. 
His imagination, flexible, facile and genial, lacks the depth and 
strength for this sort of work. We can imagine how Coleridge 
would have written such a poem. " The Building of the Ship," 
with its candid, fervent symbolism, is much more successful. The 
human interest in it just balances the ideal, and the whole is 
artistic and moving. Such experiments as " The Christus " have 
the merit of aiming high, and are the fruit of laborious pains ; but 
Longfellow's success was often in inverse proportion to his labor. 
The " Trilogy " was one of his miscalculations. 

Parts of" Evangeline " have entered into the language. No long 
narrative poem — not even the " Iliad " — keeps the same level 
of excellence throughout. " Evangeline " is kept alive by reason 
of its many exquisite lines, noble and touching passages and deli- 
cate descriptions. It is a beautiful and pathetic love story, with a 
harmonious background ; and the conception of Evan- 

"Evangfe- gehne herself, making herself a blessing to others for 
line " ^ 7 o ^ 

the sake of her love for her lost lover, is as fine as 

anything this poet wrote. But when we return to the poem, after 

having once read and appreciated it, we find that the passages we 

re-read are comparatively few. The characters are not powerfully 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 107 

nor vividly drawn ; there are long stretches of unimportant narra- 
tive, and, to speak technically, the atmosphere of the story is' some- 
times more obvious than its features. On the other hand, what is 
good in it is lovely with an exalted and immortal loveliness ; and 
the sonorous music of its verse lingers in the memory. The other 
narrative poems, with the exception of " Hiawatha," need not 
detain us. 

^' Hiawatha " is somewhat on the plan of the Norse eddas. Its 
short metre, with its repetitions and expansions, is representative 
of the primitive, unsophisticated character of the aborigines ; and 
the series of legends which compose it, following one another 
without apparent connection, are nevertheless bound together by 
the thread of Hiawatha's life. We have had translations of the 
eddas and sagas ; but this was a native American 
poem, and, in so far, was of a form and character un- ''^^f.^^' 
precedented in our literature. It has a unique beauty 
and fascination : as charming as a fairy tale, there is a chord of 
wild melancholy vibrating through it ; figures strange, beautiful 
and terrible peer at us out of the tameless wilderness that is 
the background : savage beasts enter into the story and play 
their part like the human characters : Nature herself is human- 
ized, and the human creatures seem at times to be resolved 
into the forces of nature. Grim and weird passions are inex- 
tricably intertwined with qualities artless as those of childhood. 
Minnehaha, the Indian girl, and wife of Hiawatha, is a master- 
piece of poetic beauty, a creation that only a true poet could have 
brought forth, or would have ventured to attempt. Hiawatha is 
himself a noble conception ; and, fantastic as is the tale, there is 
a human heart in it, compelling the reader's heart to sympathize 
and listen. "Hiawatha" stands alone; it had no predecessors 
and it can have no followers. Founded upon the basis of the 
mass of Indian legends and traditions that have come to us, and 
of which it makes a most judicious and fortunate selection, it is 
yet a work of original genius, — original in itself, and original as 
regards its author; for it divides Longfellow's poetry into two 
distinct parts, one of which is " Hiawatha," and the other all his 



108 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

other poems. Had Longfellow never written it, he would not have 
merited the half of his present reputation. In idea and execution 
alike it is an inspiration; for although, being written, one feels 
that no one but Longfellow could have written it, yet, until he 
wrote it, no one could have believed him capable of such an 
achievement. No previous work of his had lighted the way to it. 
nor do we find its echo in any subsequent one. Like all his best 
productions — like all sound art anywhere — it cannot be con- 
sidered save as a whole. Had the metre been different, all would 
have been different. It is a sudden crystallization of form and 
substance ; a happy marriage, not to be dissolved. 

Upon the lyrics and ''' Evangeline," and upon " Hiawatha," 
The poems Longfellow's renown securely rests. His sonnets add 
that secure to his reputation, but would not of themselves have 
his fame. made it. In the character of the man himself could 
be found all that made his poetry delightful ; and his face was 
the mirror of his harmonious and lovely mind. 



Selections and ExERCisESi 
RESIGNATION. 

There is no flock, however watched and tended. 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair ! 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying. 

Will not be comforted ! 

Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise. 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 109 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; 

Amid these earthly damps 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 

May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no Death ! What seems so is transition ; 

This Hfe of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion. 

By guardian angels led, 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 

She lives, whom we call dead. 

Day after day we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air ; 
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 

Behold her grown more fair. 

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives. 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken. 

May reach her where she lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 

For when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her. 

She will not be a child ; 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion. 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 



no AMERICAN UrERATURE. 

And though at times impetuous with emotion 

And anguish long suppressed, 
The swelhng heart heaves moaning Hke the ocean, 

That cannot be at rest, — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay ; 
By silence sanctifying, not concealing. 

The grief that must have way. 

What is the purpose of the first two stanzas ? Is exaggeration 
used to produce the desired effect? Do you suppose Longfellow 
always felt ''the air full of farewells to the dying"? What made 
him feel so at this time? From whence do our afflictions come? 
Does the author believe in immortality? How does he express 
his belief? How does he comfort himself? What resolve does 
he make? Write this poem in your own language. Is the thought 
striking or original ? In what does the beauty of the poem con- 
sist? Study and describe the imagery. 



THE RAINY DAY. 

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall. 
And the day is dark and dreary. 

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast. 
And the days are dark and dreary. 

Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. Ill 

Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall, 

Some days must be dark and dreary. 

At what season of the year must this day have been ? Do you 
think such a day well described ? Trace the comparison between 
the life and the day. What is the reflection at the end? In 
what does the beauty of this poem consist ? 



A PSALM OF LIFE. 

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 

Life is but an empty dream ! 
For the soul is dead that slumbers. 

And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave^ 

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in the strife ! 



112 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
Act, — act in the Hving Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 

We can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time; — 

Footprints, that perhaps another. 

Sailing o'er hfe's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother. 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to wait. 

This poem was published in 1839 : how old was the poet then? 
Is a poet likely to write a valuable " Psalm of Life " at such an 
age? Is Longfellow's attempt an exception? This poem is 
popular with a certain class of people : can you guess the class 
and tell why it pleases the people of this class? Write in your 
own language the meaning of each stanza. Is the poem a close 
logical chain ? State the connection between the first and second 
stanzas. Between the second and third stanzas. Between the 
third and fourth. Continue the process through the poem. If 
the poem cannot be called a chain, what can you call it? Are 
the figures good? Is the philosophy striking or novel? Does 
it hold up the right ideal? Does it spur you up to the right 
thing in the right way ? 

" HIAWATHA." 

Study this poem part by part until you know the purpose of 
each part, the means used to accompHsh the purpose, and the 
connection of each with the purpose of the whole poem. Study 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF- CENTURY. 113 

the imagery used. Does the poem seem to have the atmosphere of 
a genume Indian legend ? What ideal of the Indian does it present ? 
Describe the style of verse. Does the form seem appropriate for 
the matter? Which of the parts do you Hke best? Why? 

Note. — " Hiawatha" may be had in Nos. 13 and 14 of " Riverside Literature 
Series" (15 cents each). 

" Evangehne," with portrait and biographical sketch of the author, an historical 
introduction, and notes to the poem may be had in No. i of the " Riverside 
Literature Series " (15 cents). No. 2 contains " The Courtship of Miles Standish " 
with notes. If time can be found, studies should be made of the two poems. 

General. — To classify his output. Name his prose works. 
What was the nature of each one ? What did he do in the way 
of translation? Name his long poems. Are they historical or 
entirely imaginative ? How many ballads? How many sonnets? 
How many "songs" ? How many tales? Do you find any 
martial lyrics ? Patriotic ? What poems bear upon domestic life ? 
What ones may be called nature poems ? What ones are reflec- 
tive or didactic ? How many slavery poems ? 

To determine his skill as an artist. Do you find many meas- 
ures? Do you find original measures? Do you find skill in 
handhng the ones he selects? Is his verse flowing and melodious? 
Is its music soft or sonorous? Do you find him using complicated 
forms ? What is the quality of his translations ? In what form is 
he most successful? Compare him as an artist with Byrant. 
With Whittier. With Lowell. With Lanier. 

To detei-mine the quality of his work. Is his style lofty, or 
simple? Does his poetry express fire and passion? Original 
thought? Deep philosophy? E very-day philosophy? Does he 
rise to tragedy ? Do you find pathos? Humor? Does he repre- 
sent exceptional, or common life? Heroic, or simple virtues? 
Is he didactic? Is his work distinctively American? Does his 
work spring from the study or from observation and experience of 
actual life? Is he a reformer or a doctri7inaire? Is his poetry 
the product of a cultivated intellect following classical models, or 
the outburst of an original, untrained genius? What makes you 
say so ? He is said to be the poet of the great middle class : do 
you think this just? Why? 



114 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

R. H. Dana (1787-1879) — who must not be confounded with 
his son R. H. Dana, who wrote the famous sea-narrative, "Two 
Years before the Mast" — became known chiefly as a critic of 
poetry, though he was also a poet. During the years 181 7 to 
18 1 9, he contributed a series of critical papers to ''The North 
American Review," in one of which he reviewed the entire field of 
English poetry previous to, and inclusive of, Wordsworth. Noth- 
ing approaching the taste, insight and subtle analysis of this essay 
had before been done in America : he grasped all the character- 
istics of English poetic literature ; and his examination of Words- 
worth and Coleridge, in particular, is profound and illuminating. 
His lectures on Shakespeare increased his reputation : and in 
182 1, at the age of thirty-four, he began a quarterly magazine, 
"The Idle Man," to which he contributed two novels of a psycho- 
logic cast, " Tom Thornton " and " Paul Felton." Rugged and 
abrupt in style and intense in feeling, they portray the darker 
human passions, set off against a stern glow of moral purpose. 
His poems, published in 1827, under the title of " The Buccaneer, 
and Other Poems," were too psychological to be popular : but 
they picture with striking vividness both the outward and the in- 
ward world, and show a truly Cal\^inistic conception of the reahty 
of sin. Their power is greater than their art : and their beauty 
is overshadowed by their gloom. Dana was one of those men 
who gave glimpses of powers apparently equal to any achievement, 
but who never — for whatever reason — achieve quite what is 
expected of them. 

Washington Allston (i 779-1843) was the American pioneer 
of general culture. The crude age in which he lived was aston- 
ished at his doctrine, and regarded him as a prophet. He was a 
painter, and his pictures have grace and a certain spiritual come- 
liness, but they lack strength, and fibre. He wrote a 
of cultur*e romance, " Monalde," which had many excellences, 
but not the quality of impressiveness ; unless we 
except the description of a picture of a soul struggling in the 
toils of sin, which is more effective than any of Allston's actual 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 115 

pictures. He lectured on art, and his audiences sat in rapt 
enthusiasm ; but no echo of his lectures now remains. He 
" conversed " in the monologue fashion afterwards adopted by 
Alcott, Margaret Fuller and other enlightened minds of the 
period, and his interlocutors were ravished by his wisdom ; but 
they neglected to take down the words in which he propounded 
it. He meekly patronized the disciples who came to him for 
spiritual and sesthetic counsel and consolation, and, to adopt the 
language of one of them, " he lived above the world, happy in the 
free exercise and guardianship of his varied powers." Finally, 
he produced some sonnets which are placid and pale-hued records 
of personal feeling, and whose chief merit is the negative one of 
being free from vulgarity. But though the definite information to 
be had about. Allston arouses a certain intellectual impatience, it 
would be wrong to dismiss him as a vapid and featureless pre- 
tender. He was both loved and admired by some of the ablest 
men and women of his day. Dana speaks of his mind as having 
" the glad but gentle brightness of a star, sending pure influences 
into your heart, and making it kind and cheerful." Mrs. Jameson, 
the English writer on art, expressed her surprise to witness such 
opulence of thought conveyed in such seemingly careless talk; 
Whipple alludes to " the inestimable privilege of hearing him con- 
verse " ; and when he died, the general exclamation was, " what 
a light is extinguished ! " Probably, as Whipple himself suggests, 
he was " one of those men whose works are hardly the measure of 
their powers — who can talk better than they can write, and con- 
ceive more vividly than they can execute." 

Fitz-Greene Halleck (i 790-1867). Here was a man of 
strong individuality, and of power well distributed and propor- 
tioned, who resembled Dana and Allston only in not having ful- 
filled the hopes that were entertained of him. But, in his case, 
negligence proceeded, not from any characteristic one of our 
lack of force, or ability of expression, nor from a earliest 
conviction that his mental affiliations were too alien ^^^ ^' 
from those of the generality to admit of any prospect of a 



116 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

mutual understanding. Halleck's mode of expression was strong, 
direct and masculine : there was no mysticism in his compo- 
sition j he had good sense, sturdy humor and hearty emotions ; 
what he said he meant, and there was never any difficulty about 
comprehending him. Moreover, he possessed an imagination 
that was vivid, though not sublime, an unusual command of 
words, and, thanks to much practice in childhood, singular 
facility in the use of rhyme and metre. But there was in 
Halleck a semi-jocose cynicism and skepticism, which, when his 
feelings were not aroused, led him to pooh-pooh inspiration and 
ambition, and to excuse an innate tendency to intellectual indo- 
lence by insisting upon the vanity of mortal achievements and 
aspirations. This attribute became confirmed as he grew older, 
and more than half his life was passed unproductively so far as 
literature was concerned. There was a touch of Thackeray in 
his temperament, but physically he was a rather small, lean, dry 
man ; courteous and agreeable, but given somewhat to irony. In 
his youth, he was a man-about-town, and he and his friend Drake 
amused themselves and New York by writing, and publishing in 
the " Post," a series of rhymed squibs on society called the 
" Croaker Papers." Halleck afterwards wrote " Fanny," a narra- 
tive satire in verse in the vein of " Miss Kilmansegg," and 
" Nothing to Wear." His serious pieces were better. '• Marco 
Bozzaris " is as widely known as anything in American verse : 
" Alnwick Castle," fruit of a visit to Europe, is good and spirited 
descriptive poetry ; " Red Jacket " is an effective piece of Indian 
portraiture ; " Burns " is written with more depth of feeling and 
explicit homage than he was accustomed to betray, and the lines 
on the death of Drake came from his heart and have become a 
part of our language. Halleck professed great admiration for 
Campbell's concise and powerful poetry : he thought Byron a 
rhetorician. He was fond of old books, of men and of the city, 
though he lived much of his hfe at Guilford, where he was born. 
He was employed in the office of John Jacob Astor, and his toler- 
able pecuniary circumstances contributed to his literary idleness. 
He was conservative in politics : his father had been a royalist 



POETS OF THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY. 117 

during the Revolution. For a man who did so Httle, Halleck is 
well remembered. 

Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) was according to Hal- 
leck, " the handsomest man in New York, with a figure like an 
Apollo." He was a youth of buoyant spirits but delicate health; 
playful, disputatious, full of healthy sentiment, an ardent patriot : 
he had fancy, but not genius ; his poetizing tendency was strong, 
and he indulged it easily though carelessly. Neither Drake nor 
Halleck paid much attention to finish and accuracy in their work. 
Drake was poor, but married a wealthy young woman who was 
much in love with him. He travelled to Europe, and afterwards 
to New Orleans, in the hope of staving off consumption ; but the 
disease carried him off the following year, at the age of twent)^-five. 

Drake's " Ode on the American Flag " first appeared in the New 
York "Evening Post" over the signature of "Croaker." There 
is fire in it, inclining to fireworks : overmuch color, 
figures too extravagant: but it is all in keeping, and can Keats. '^ 
its sincerity of feeling has kept it alive. The four 
concluding lines are said to have been written by Halleck. " The 
Culprit Fay " is a much longer poem, in the style of Walter Scott's 
romantic verse. It overflows with delicate and playful fancy, and 
tells its tale with vivacity. It has the merit of an American back- 
ground, though, indeed, Fairyland can hardly be confined by 
geographical conditions. Its local and temporary fame were 
remarkable ; but grace and fancy help little towards immortality, 
especially when employed so heedlessly as by Drake. 

The names of several minor versifiers are connected with this 
period ; but the student can afford to pass them by. Poe has been 
already considered ; Emerson, whose poetry was incorporate with 
his philosophy, will be examined in the next chapter. 



118 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



VII. 
RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 

New and untested circumstances make the mind restless and 
speculative. A man who finds himself for the first time in a 
strange country feels an impulse to cut loose from the habits of 
his previous life, and try strange experiments. He wishes to make 
a new interior world, to answer to the new external one. 

After America had taken her place among the nations of the 
earth, a restlessness of this kind began to be manifested by a 
certain class of the population. It must be borne in mind that 
America a America represented a fresh departure in the direc- 
/lew depar- tion of civil and religious freedom. It was not simply 
*'*^®* an aggregation of people in a remote geographical 

region : it was the incarnation of a great spiritual idea. And, 
since one advance or reform suggests others, it is not surprising 
that America should have become the arena of numerous social 
and religious theorists. 

Moreover, a spirit of change had, for a good many years past, 
begun to disturb the atmosphere of Christendom in Europe. The 
French Revolution, at the close of the last century, had attempted 
virtually to uproot nearly all human beliefs and traditions, and to 
make the world over new. A reaction followed with proportionate 
swiftness ; but not a few of the ideas then struck out continued to 
Hve, and exert an influence. One French philosopher, Fourier 
by name, published his views in several elaborate 
Social volumes, going over the whole ground of human 

civilization, proposing radical reforms and casting 
the horoscope of the future. These books found readers in the 
United States, and not a few of the readers became disciples also. 
Coleridge, in England, had a scheme of communistic life, which 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 119 

he called " Pantisocracy," and in which he interested Southey, 
Lovell and others. Godwin and Shelley were likewise dissatisfied 
with things as they were, and had plans, more or less definite, 
for altering them for the better. All these radicals took their cue 
from Plato, who, centuries before the birth of Christ, had evolved 
the conception of his " Republic," 

But in America, more than elsewhere, actual experiments were 
made. The visionary was oddly mingled with the practical. 
Reforms were urged, separately or collectively, on almost all lines 
conceivable. Besides the comprehensive Fourierites, and other 
communistic groups deriving from his, there were persons who 
proposed to abohsh Hquor, war and executions ; to bring woman's 
dress into conformity with man's ; to introduce various modifica- 
tions into diet ; to do away with money, and even 
with books ; to dispense with the ceremony of mar- experiments 
riage, leaving men and women free to make and 
unmake bonds of union at pleasure ; to put an end to all carnal 
unions ; to repudiate all outward administration of law, leaving 
man to be a law unto himself; to pretermit religious forms and 
observances ; and more of the same sort. Other and wiser men, 
perceiving that human nature was at the bottom of human insti- 
tutions, and would revive whatever should be destroyed, sought 
to carry the war into a more interior region, and, by philosophical 
reasonings and demonstrations, to persuade mankind to a vital 
abandonment of error. But the majority of those who were at 
odds with existing things, were rather destructive than creative. 

Several communities were formed, and a few of them, such as 
the Shakers, still survive. In 1830, a man named Joseph Smith 
founded the sect of Mormons, with a new book of Divine Revela- 
tion, and a dogma of polygamy. William Miller, in 1839, prophe- 
sied the approaching destruction of the world, and made many 
converts to his doctrine. The Oneida community was based upon 
peculiar views as to the relations of the sexes. Some of the most 
enlightened persons of the time met at Brook Farm, in the neigh- 
borhood of Boston, and tried to live a primitive and philosophic 
life. A great deal of earnestness was sporadically exhibited ; but 



120 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the nation at large was affected only by the agitation for the abo- 
lition of slavery. To the results of this agitation we have already 
alluded. 

Whatever was really important in the questionings of this period 
was embodied in the writings of a handful of men of genius. The 
significance of some of these writings has only begun to be appre- 
ciated. They reflect the pure essence of the spirit of the time. 
Their visible practical effect has been small, but the seed they 
sowed is likely to produce larger results as time goes on. In 
order to acquire an insight into the general aspect and drift of the 
fermentations at work between 1830 and 1850, the student may 
profitably read Nathaniel Hawthorne's " Earth's Holocaust " and 
his '' Blithedale Romance." They were written forty years ago 
or more ; but in them Hawthorne weighed what was passing, and 
delivered thereon the impartial verdict of posterity. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson (i 803-1 882) was borri in Boston on 

May 25th. Of the five sons of his parents, he was the second. 

His ancestors had been clergymen for several generations. His 

father, Rev. William Emerson, died when Ralph was eight years 

old. His aunt, Mary Moody Emerson, a good classical scholar, 

directed his studies ; and her friend Sarah Bradford, another 

singularly learned woman, assisted her. At fourteen, 

Early Ufe. fe -^ ' ' 

Ralph entered Harvard College. Neither at school 

nor at college was he distinguished. He liked the insight into 
forms of life to be found in the classic authors ; he found nourish- 
ment in Montaigne and the poets ; he disagreed with mathemat- 
ics; and in general he acted upon a principle that he enunciated 
long afterwards : " What we do not call education is more gracious 
than what we do call so." Neither was he given to bodily sports ; 
while as to his moral deportment, he could not be said to have 
any. He was pure and upright by instinct, and knew of " temp- 
tation " by hearsay only. Virtue, as implying struggle with and 
victory over evil, was never predicable of Emerson. Goodness 
and truth were spontaneous in him ; and he was inveterately 
innocent from first to last. 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 121 

The family was poor : Ralph's brother William earned money 
by teaching school, part of which went to maintain Ralph in col- 
lege ; the latter also practised pedagogy. Two years after gradu- 
ating he beg^.n studying for the ministry under Dr. William Ellery 
Channing In 1823, he was ready for the pulpit, but his ill health 
took hiir to Florida. In 1829, he was appointed pastor of the 
Second Church in Boston, -married Miss Ellen Tucker and set to 
work. Three years later his wife died, and Emerson, who had 
found himself out of accord with orthodox theology, resigned 
explicitly from the clerical calling, and went to Europe. He met 
there whomsoever was of intellectual eminence sufficient to attract 
his curiosity. Among them was Thomas Carlyle, whose friendship 
with Emerson is part of their common history: In 
1833, returning home, he lived in the ''Old Manse" ^^^^l^^^ 
at Concord. That autumn he began the practice of 
Lyceum-lecturing which he was to continue for six and forty 
years. In 1836, he wrote his first essay, "Nature," of which, 
during the ensuing twelve years, was 
sold an average of one copy every 
ten days. At the time of his death, 
he was the author of rather less than 
a dozen volumes of essays, criticising 
and expounding life, and of a col- 
lection of poems, written from the 
same point of view, and with the 
same aim as the essays. Compara- 

Emerson's House. 

tively small in amount though his 

literary work was, its quaUty had made him famous all over the 
world : the little house in Concord where he dwelt with his 
second wife and family, was the goal of pilgrims from all civilized 
nations. He was loved and reverenced as few men have been, 
his reputation shed lustre upon his country, and the stimulus he 
imparted to pure living and high thinking was extraordinary. 

His ancestors, being both Puritan and clerical, had maintained 
a behavior morally unimpeachable during several generations : but 
the Calvinistic doctrines did not sour in them the native milk 




122 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

of human kindness and charity. They found the doing of good a 
task more congenial than denouncing woe and punishment. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson, consequently, was born with a disposi- 
tion nearly angelic. The human nature in him was the same as 
in all men, but those elements of it that prompt to 
^p^sSon. disobedience of moral laws were in abeyance. And 
though Emerson could not help knowing that good- 
ness must have a logical opposite, known as evil, and that many 
persons habitually break the ten commandments, yet this was 
purely hearsay knowledge on his part : he had had no personal 
experience of its truth. He therefore was as an intelligent inhabi- 
tant of an equatorial region who hears about the state of things 
at the poles. He recognizes that ice and cold are possible, and 
his confidence in the veracity of his informants assures him that 
these phenomena actually exist. But how they feel or what they 
look like he can only conjecture. 

From the nature of the case, Emerson could not have realized 
the singularity of his relation as regarded evil. Being like other 
men in other respects, why not also as to his moral status? And 
his ignorance of the truth was inevitably shared by his disciples. 
They believed that he strove so constantly and vigorously against 
temptation that it never overcame him : whereas he supposed evil to 
be absolutely what moralists describe it as being relatively, namely, 
evil-smelling and revolting; and that his avoidance of it was 
no more commendable than is a fastidious woman's avoidance oi 
assafoetida and lepers. That evil could ever seem alluring and 
desirable, it never entered into his head to conceive : nor could he, 
therefore, comprehend what appeared to him to be the insane 
perversity of its votaries. 

In short, Emerson was that rare phenomenon, a type of pure 
human innocence. He neither did, nor was tempted to do, evil. 
The experience that reveals to a man that he is compact of evil, 
from which only God's mercy can rescue him — in religious par- 
lance, regeneration — was as unknown to Emerson as 
^n"^^^? *° ^^ infant a year old. The voice of conscience, 
convicting men of sin, and calling to repentance, was 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 123 

never heard in his soul. He was so far from being virtuous (that 
is, obedient to the moral law from a sense of duty, and against 
natural inclination) that he was never other than spontaneously 
good — just as a rose is spontaneously sweet. The men of the 
Golden Age, that poets sing of, were innocent, because sin, and its 
companion, conscience, did not as yet exist. The men of the 
Millennium, which optimists foretell, will be innocent, because ages 
of voluntary abstention will have so deadened sin that its pres- 
ence in human nature will be forgotten. Such an innocent man 
was Emerson, though he lived in the midst of this self-conscious, 
conscience-tortured, duty-ridden Nineteenth Century. 

His disciples found so much in him, that they could not under- 
stand why they failed to find more ; while Emerson, on his side, 
was at a loss to guess what more they could want. There was no 
common ground between the parties ; they played at cross-pur- 
poses. A man whose books had so many vivid insights into life, 
must, they fancied, be deeply versed in spiritual strug- jyiga^re spir- 
gles : but to their interrogatories he could make no itual expe- 
answer. He was always ready to hear what they had ^®^^®' 
to say, being to the full as inquisitive as they ; but as to solving 
their perplexities by arguments, or by reference to facts of expe- 
rience, it was quite beyond him. He had not so much as crossed 
the boundaries of regions in which they supposed him habitually 
to reside. 

It was said Emerson disdained to argue. But it was not dis- 
dain ; it was inability. He had no ratiocinative faculty. What 
truth he had came to him by intuition : he would only 
say of it, '' I feel it to be true." He cared nothing t^eV^culty" 
for consistency. He might regard as interesting the 
fact that two or more of his statements conflicted ; but he 
declined to revise them. They must all alike be true, despite 
appearances. Logical connection was another thing he failed to 
appreciate. His essays might be read either forwards or back- 
wards, and their titles did not certify to their contents. No 
matter : Emerson would only smile and remark that that was 
his way of writing. 



124 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

The truth was Emerson spent his life in saying, in various ways 
and to diverse purposes, only one thing. He had had a revela- 
tion, or an intuition, of what creation meant ; and he proffered 
that in response to all demands made upon him. As the sky, to 
our investigating gaze, replies with star after star, and 
one gospel ^^^^^^ nothing but stars, all practically repetitions of one 
another, so in any one of Emerson's essays intelli- 
gently read may be found the germs of his whole philosophy : 
nor is there anything else to find there. They would appear even 
less conventional than they do had not their author, supposing 
himself to be like other people, tried to conduct his external 
affairs as they did theirs. 

His deficiencies were more interesting and instructive than his 
qualities. He never showed marked intellectual power ; he lived 
and wrote by a sort of divine instinct. The elaborate and carefully 
oiled intellectual machinery, by dint of which we make our investi- 
gations and reach our conclusions, was so much waste lumber to 
him : he found what he sought (if he found it at all) immediately : 
A spontane- ^^ opened his eyes, and it was before him. He found 
ousmanand no value in church or ritual, because religious trust 
^^ ^^' came to him spontaneously. He saw no sense in 

governments, because he himself went right involuntarily. He 
would not go all lengths with the abolitionists, because he per- 
ceived that slavery was not in fetters, but in feeling : the way to 
emancipate the slave was to make him comprehend his dignity 
and freedom as a human being : the real slaves in the South, in 
his view, were the slave-holders. He had misgivings about patri- 
otism : true patriotism should consist in the ambition to contribute 
to other nations as many instead of as few as possible of our own 
advantages. In a word, Emerson's alien constitution renders him 
one of the most invaluable of critics, as a man from another 
planet might be. 

But the moment he began to go behind his intuitions he got 
into trouble. For him to attempt to draw an inference was fatal. 
Unless he talked in the style of the Delphic oracle, he was apt to 
talk nonsense. His descriptions of persons or things were felici- 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 125 

tous, but in criticising them he was apt to err. His essay on 
"Farming," for example, is admirable so far as its abstract state- 
ments are concerned, but affords no belp or encouragement to 
practical farmers. In treating of any subject, his tone and his 
conclusions are always cheerful and inspiriting ; but when we turn 
from his books to real life, we discover that he has never entered 
into realities ; that he has exaggerated man's actual powers, and 
underrated his difficulties. Emerson's works are like a soap- 
bubble ; they mirror and enhance all beauty, and delight and 
educate the aesthetic sense ; but they can be applied to no con- 
cretely useful purpose. At the contact of mortal fingers they 
vanish. His writings have therefore always been more applauded 
by young than by old persons. The former, looking forward to 
life, are apt to believe all things possible : the latter, knowing life, 
know the limitations of personal effort. Nevertheless, Emerson is 
good reading for the young. Like music, he uplifts the mind, and 
is consolatory. His sayings are true for the soul, though not for 
the body ; and the issues he contemplates may ultimately arrive. 

He was one of the most unself-conscious of men. This was due 
to his inexperience of inward struggle, which makes a man 
acquainted with himself. In the sense of being separate and 
unique in his mental proportions, he was and appeared intensely 
individual : but he had no perception of his own individuality, and 
could not talk or write or think about himself : he always looked 
outward, and led his interlocutor away from the personal to the 
universal. He was not, in fact, able clearly to distinguish between 
men and mankind. He thought that an individual could and 
ought to do the work of the race : that the powers of all human 
nature could be concentrated in any one person. Speaking of the 
communistic idea, he said, '' A man is weaker for every recruit to 
his banner." He delighted in the contemplation of such men 
as Moses, Caesar, Shakespeare, Napoleon, Goethe, because their 
power seemed to illustrate his theory. He would not allow that 
Christ was more than a man, because he beheved any man capa- 
ble of being a Christ. He ignored the finality of individual 
boundary Hnes. 



126 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

In only one of his books — " English Traits " — does Emerson 
attempt portrayal of character. He succeeds just in proportion as 
he generalizes. He gives a strong impression of English charac- 
teristics as a whole, but no lifelike portrait of any EngHsh person. 
But " English Traits " is the only autobiographical 
r^hT^^f'" fragment of Emerson that we possess. Inadvertently, 
his preoccupation with others reveals himself. He 
reports their answers to his questions ; and both the answers and 
the questions shape out for us the questioner. We infer a man 
from the sum of his likes and dislikes ; and, more compendiously 
than elsewhere, Emerson's likes and dishkes are betrayed in 
*' English Traits." 

His analysis of nature is, of course, his main achievement : it 
forms the exphcit subject of his first published book, and it is the 
background of all of them. It contains much of manifest truth, 
and fails only when the author tries to account for and correct his 
own insights. He shows the influence of both Plato and Sweden- 
Hi in t)'^^§' ^"^^ when their philosophies approach his, he 
achieve- becomes obscure and uncertain. His desire in this 

ment. t^^^^ essay to be complete led him astray. He trusted 

to the feeblest part of his intellect, and it betrayed him. His 
readers, presuming that one who could write truth so translucent, 
could write nothing else, endeavored to swallow the book whole, 
and supposed it must be their own incapacity, and not Emer- 
son's, that stood in their way. They did not understand his whole 
meaning, because he himself did not. And he could not set 
them right, because he did not know where he was wrong. His 
philosophy may be briefly outhned as follows : — 

He begins by observing that it is a sufficient account of that 
appearance we call the world, that God desires to instruct man's 
OutUne mind. Nature, in the largest sense, is to be regarded 

of Ms, as the sum of everything that is not man's soul; but 

philosophy. Qf ^j^^^ gQ^i -^ -g ^i^g symbol. The material, visible 

universe is the terminus or continent of the spiritual and invisible 
sphere : it is the basis of our speech, and the means of our disci- 
pline. Its various parts and forms are incarnations of God's 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 127 

infinite ideas or affections. As man rises in intelligence, his 
thought turns the raw material of nature's kingdoms into uses, 
and thus the world gradually becomes realized human will. Man 
is the form of the highest principle in nature : all other forms are 
degradations of his. 

Since the whole effect upon man of nature is a disciplinary 
one, we reach the conclusion that it has no actual or unrelated 
existence. Things are not really spread out in space ; they are 
painted on the firmament of the soul. In confirmation of this 
truth, we note that the best moments of hfe are those awakenings 
of the higher powers, when, as in a vision, we behold God, and 
nature reverently retires from consciousness. 

In this rapt state, to which all men are capable of attaining, by 
piety or by passion, the soul sees the world as one vast picture 
painted by God on the instant eternity : the distinction of past 
and present, of time and space, ceases to appear. We thus recog- 
nize the universe as a veil or illusion, embodying eternal ideas. 
But ideahsm, while accounting for nature on other than mechanical 
and chemical principles, is but a negative philosophy; it denies 
matter, but does not affirm God : it is at best but an introduction 
to such affirmation. But we now observe that individuality begins 
when nature has ascended to mind, — and the movement of 
nature is ever in the direction of intelligence. Evolution of the 
fittest, therefore, points to spiritual man as being the final cause 
of nature. The -universe is not ahen to man, but the sensible 
shadow or projection of a Being having the form of man — that is, 
of God. God does not build up nature around us, but puts it out 
through us ; or we may say that man, having by his creation access 
to the mind of the Creator, is himself the creator of the finite. 

Here, however, arises a difficulty. The world is full of ugly, 
evil and harmful things : how came they there if man, the cause 
of the finite, is but the channel through which the Infinite God 
works? Emerson accounts for it on a theory of degradation. 
Man has deteriorated, or lapsed, from his former innocent and 
godlike state. We are become strangers in nature and aHens 
from God. Man is a god in ruins — the dwarf of himself. He is 



128 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

subjected to death, which prevents him from becoming too much 
confirmed in his degenerate ways, and to birth, which enables him 
to start afresh : infancy being a sort of perpetual Messiah. The 
universe still fits him, but colossally ; he now timidly adores the 
work which aforetime he produced. Yet, occasionally, a man 
appears able once more to act on nature with his whole force — 
to fill it and command it : and through such a man God goes forth 
into the world anew. But, for the most of us, the universe lies a 
heterogeneous and uncomprehended ruin, because man has lost 
his intuitions, and is disunited with himself. 

Such is the gist of Emerson's interpretation of Creation. It 
fails in two essential points. But this is not the place to analyze 
his analysis. 

Emerson's poetry has the same aim and motive as his prose ; 
and when he chooses a subject sublime enough to match his gen- 
ius, the result is incomparably the loftiest and profoundest poetry 
produced in this country. The poet and the philosopher are at 
one in him : the one not less than the other " postpones the ap- 
parent order and relation of things to the empire of thought " ; 
he " invests stones and dust with humanity, and 
makes them the words of reason " ; and at this level 
of inspiration, " the memory carries centuries of observation in a 
single formula." But Emerson the poet is Emerson the phil- 
osopher transfigured. Here his strength is at its maximum, 
and his weakness seldom appears. The reading of some of 
his poems produces a sensation almost painful — the sensation 
of exquisite spiritual pleasure carried to the farthest point. Such 
poems must be read in high moods only, and a Httle at a time : 
there is a holy brightness and beauty in them. Both in sub- 
ject and in style they stand apart. They express the great 
elementary ideas ; the forms of outward nature (as he says in 
the "Sphinx") "fade in the Hght of their meaning sublime." 
The series of poems on Love — "To Rhea," " Give all to Love," 
"Initial, Daemonic, and Celestial Love," and others — touch 
the heights and depths of the mighty topic ; they recall no 
other poet, and really leave httle for any other poet of love to 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 129 

do. The philosophic or mystic poems, such as "The Sphinx," 
"Brahma," "Uriel," "Guy," "Forerunners," are concise and 
masterly statements, and often the purest poetry ; but they are 
less successful than the love poems, and, considering the real sim- 
plicity of the principles they discuss, have given readers unneces- 
sary perplexity. Obscurity in poetry is a fault ; there may be 
meaning underneath meaning, as in nature, but each reader should 
be able to see at once the meaning correspondent to his mental 
scope. The purport of "The Sphinx" is to explain the origin of 
evil, which, we are told, is due to man's passionate yearning for 
good. Happiness can dwell only in the perception that the per- 
fect happiness must ever be unattainable. The true lover at last 
feels that he cannot endure to be loved for what he is, but only 
for what he can never be. The only real repose is in unresting 
progress, for which the restraints of space and time afford an im- 
petus. Sin, by awakening remorse, creates ineffable peace — the 
recognition of Divine forgiveness. 

In " Uriel " a similar view of evil is taken : evil is the transition 
from earth to heaven. The consequences of the evil deed return 
inevitably upon the doer, and he is purified and uplifted by this 
punishment. "Brahma" is simply a terse metrical version of the 
Oriental paradoxes concerning the Deity; the aspect which the 
Infinite inevitably assumes to the finite. " Guy " and " Mithri- 
dates " are pictures of man restored to sympathy with and do- 
minion over nature. " Forerunners " tells of the ideals of Hfe 
which we never can realize, but which, by stimulating to effort, 
make life alive. 

A number of Emerson's poems treat, in a noble style, of the 
visible world and of the spiritual meaning of scientific achieve- 
ments. Such are " Hamatreya," " Woodnotes," " Monadnoc," 
" Merlin." Here he leads the way to the poetry of the future, 
v/hich must regard all facts as metaphors of supersensuous truth. 
Finally, there are poems whose " beauty is their own excuse for 
being," such as " Rhodora," " Forbearance," " Painting and 
Sculpture," " The Humble-Bee," " Good-Bye " and the Concord 
" Hymn." 



130 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Emerson pays little regard to metre or conventional form in his 
verse. When the theme is large enough, tlie poet, as he remarks 
in " Merlin," may " mount to Paradise by the stairway of surprise." 
Nevertheless, it may be doubted whether metre and 
defects. symmetry can, save very exceptionally, properly be 

neglected : and it is evident that Emerson's remiss- 
ness is often due to a defect of ability. Indeed, he has admitted 
as much, and has intimated that his poetic product would have 
been more copious than it is, had his faculty in this direction been 
greater. Meanwhile, his poems, even in this respect, are a welcome 
relief from the flawless emptiness of most contemporary verse. 

Upon the whole, Emerson stands as one of the few great origi- 
nal forces in literature. Some of his reputation doubtless results 
A great ^^^™ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ comparatively few have under- 

original stood him : for there is a large class of persons who 

°^^^' like to claim credit for seeing through mill-stones. 

But his true fame is likely to increase as time passes : as man- 
kind approaches the level on which he stands, his influence will 
broaden, and be more discriminatingly recognized. 



Selections and Studies. 

THE SPHINX. 

The Sphinx is drowsy. 

Her wings are furled : 
Her ear is heavy, 

She broods on the world. 
" Who'll tell me my secret. 

The ages have kept? — 
I awaited the seer 

While they slumbered and slept 



"The fate of the man-child. 
The meaning of man ; 

Known fruit of the unknown ; 
Daedalian plan ; 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 131 

Out of sleeping a waking, 

Out of waking a sleep ; 
Life death overtaking; 

Deep underneath deep? 

"Erect as a sunbeam, 

Upspringeth the palm; 
The elephant browses, 

Undaunted and calm ; 
In beautiful motion 

The thrush plies his wings; 
Kind leaves of his covert, 

Your silence he sings. 

"The waves, unashamed. 

In difference sweet, 
Play glad with the breezes. 

Old playfellows meet; 
The journeying atoms, 

Primordial wholes, 
Firmly draw, firmly drive, 

By their animate poles. 

"Sea, earth, air, sound, silence. 

Plant, quadruped, bird, 
By one music enchanted. 

One deity stirred, — 
Each the other adorning, 

Accompany still ; 
Night veileth the morning, 

The vapor the hill. 

"The babe by its mother 

Lies bathed in joy ; 
Glide its hours uncounted, — = 

The sun is its toy ; 



132 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Shines the peace of all being, 
Without cloud, in its eyes ; 

And the sum of the world 
In soft miniature lies. 

" But man crouches and blushes^ 

Absconds and conceals; 
He creepeth and peepeth, 

He palters and steals ; 
Infirm, melancholy, 

Jealous glancing around, 
An oaf, an accomplice, 

He poisons the ground. 

" Out spoke the great mother. 

Beholding his fear; — 
At the sound of her accents 

Cold shuddered the sphere : — 
'Who has drugged my boy's cup? 

Who has mixed my boy's bread? 
Who, with sadness and madness, 

Has turned my child's head?'" 

I heard a poet answer 

Aloud and cheerfully, • 
" Say on, sweet Sphinx ! thy dirges 

Are pleasant songs to me. 
Deep love lieth under 

These pictures of time ; 
They fade in the Hght of 

Their meaning subhme. 

"The fiend that man harries 

Is love of the Best; 
Yawns the pit of the Dragon, 

Lit by rays from the Blest. 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. \Zl 

The Lethe of Nature 

Can't trance him again, 
Whose soul sees the perfect, 

Which his eyes seek in vain. 

"To vision profounder, 

Man's spirit must dive ; 
His aye-rolUng orb 

At no goal will arrive ; 
The heavens that now draw him 

With sweetness untold, 
Once found, — for new heavens 

He spurneth the old. 

" Pride ruined the angels, 

Their shame them restores ; 
Lurks the joy that is sweetest 

In stings of remorse. 
Have I a lover 

Who is noble and free ? — 
I would he were nobler 

Than to love me. 

" Eterne alternation 

Now follows, now flies ; 
And under pain, pleasure, — 

Under pleasure, pain Hes. 
Love works at the centre. 

Heart-heaving alway ; 
Forth speed the strong pulses 

To the borders of day. 

"Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits; 

Thy sight is growing blear; 
Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, 

Her muddy eyes to clear ! " 



134 AMERICAN LITERA TURE. 

The old Sphinx bit her thick Hp, — 
Said, "Who taught thee me to name? 

I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow, 
Of thine eye I am eyebeam. 

"Thou art the unanswered question; 

Couldst see thy proper eye, 
Alway it asketh, asketh ; 

And each answer is a lie. 
So take thy quest through nature. 

It through thousand natures ply : 
Ask on, thou clothed eternity; 

Time is the false reply." 

Uprose the merry Sphinx, 

And crouched no more in stone ; 
She melted into purple cloud. 

She silvered in the moon ; 
She spired into a yellow flame ; 

She flowered in blossoms red; 
She flowed into a foaming wave ; 

She stood Monadnoc's head. 

Through a thousand voices 

Spoke the universal dame ; 
"Who telleth one of my meanings, 

Is master of all I am." 

Write the thought of the poem in your own language. If you 
do this carefully, you will answer many of the questions that follow. 
What is the significance of the Sphinx? What riddle does she ask? 
What contrast is drawn between inanimate nature and man? What 
question does the poet answer? What answer does he give? 
What is the reply of the Sphinx? Explain lines 13-16. Explain 
lines 29 and 30. Give a celebrated passage from Alexander Pope 
corresponding to the thought of the eleventh stanza. Have you 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 135 

come across the same thought elsewhere in your reading? Give 
the meaning of Dcedalian, Lethe, primordial, oaf, dirges, harries, 
eterne. Select the strongest figure. Select a passage. Why do 
you prefer the one you have selected ? 

THE HUMBLE-BEE. 

Burley, dozing humble-bee, 
Where thou art is clime for me. 
Let them sail for Porto Rique, 
Far-off heats through seas to seek; 
I will follow thee alone, 
Thou animated torrid-zone ! 
Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer. 
Let me chase thy waving lines ; 
Keep me nearer, me thy hearer. 
Singing over shrubs and vines. 

Insect lover of the sun, 
Joy of thy dominion ! 
Sailor of the atmosphere ; 
Swimmer through the waves of air; 
Voyager of light and noon ; 
Epicurean of June ; 
Wait, I prithee, till I come 
Within earshot of thy hum,- — 
All without is martyrdom. 

When the south wind, in May days, 
With a net of shining haze 
Silvers the horizon wall, 
And with softness touching all. 
Tints the human countenance 
With a color of romance. 
And infusing subtle heats. 
Turns the sod to violets, 



136 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Thou, in sunny solitudes, 
Rover of the underwoods, 
The green silence doth displace 
With thy mellow, breezy bass. 

Hot midsummer's petted crone, 
Sweet to me thy drowsy tone 
Tells of countless sunny hours, 
Long days, and solid banks of flowers ; 
Of gulfs of sweetness without bound 
In Indian wildernesses found ; 
Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, 
Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure. 

Aught unsavory or unclean 
Hath my insect never seen; 
But violets and bilberry bells, 
Maple-sap and daffodels. 
Grass with green flag half-mast high, 
Succory to match the sky, 
Columbine with horn of honey, 
Scented fern, and agrimony, 
Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue 
And brier-roses, dwelt among; 
All beside was unknown waste, 
All was picture as he passed. 

Wiser far than human seer. 
Yellow-breeched philosopher ! 
Seeing only what is fair. 
Sipping only what is sweet, 
Thou dost mock at fate and care. 
Leave the chaff", and take the wheat. 
When the fierce northwestern blast 
Cools sea and land so far and fast. 
Thou already slumberest deep ; 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 137 

Woe and want thou canst outsleep ; 
Want and woe, which torture us, 
Thy sleep makes ridiculous. 

In what ways does the poet describe the hum of the bee ? How 
does he describe its flight ? Why does he speak of him as '' Thou 
animated torrid-zone "? What kind of a Hfe does the bee lead? 
What kind of a philosopher does the poet make of the bee ? 

THE SNOW-STORM. 

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky. 
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, 
Seems nowhere to alight : the whited air 
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, 
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. 
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet 
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit 
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed 
In a tumultuous privacy of storm. 

Come see the north wind's masonry. 
Out of an unseen quarry evermore 
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer 
Curves his white bastions with projected roof 
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. 
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work 
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he 
For number or proportion. Mockingly, 
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths ; 
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn ; 
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, 
Maugre the farmer's sighs ; and at the gate 
A tapering turret overtops the work. 
And when his hours are numbered, and the world 
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, 
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 



138 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, 
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, 
The frolic architecture of the snow. 

Compare it with Bryant's "The First Snow-Shower," with 
Whittier's " Snow-Bound," Lowell's winter in "The Vision of 
Sir Launfal." 

CONCORD HYMN: 

SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, APRIL I9, 1 836. 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 

Their flag to April's breeze unfurled. 
Here once the embattled farmers stood, 

And fired the shot heard round the world. 

The foe long since in silence slept ; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ; 
And Time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 

On this green bank, by this soft stream, 

We set to-day a votive stone ; 
That memory may their deed redeem, 

When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 

Spirit, that made those heroes dare 

To die, and leave their children free. 
Bid Time and Nature gently spare 

The shaft we raise to them and thee. 

Give the history of the event this hymn commemorates. Select 
the most striking lines in the hymn. Why are they so significant? 

THE TITMOUSE. 

You shall not be overbold 
When you deal with Arctic cold. 
As late I found my lukewarm blood 
Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood. 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 139 

How should I fight? my foeman fine 

Has milUon arms to one of mine : 

East, west, for aid I looked in vain, 

East, west, north, south, are his domain. 

Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home ; 

Must borrow his winds who there would come. 

Up and away for life ! be fleet ! — 

The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, 

Sings in my ears, my hands are stones, 

Curdles the blood to the marble bones. 

Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, 

And hems in life with narrowing fence. 

Well, in this broad bed he and sleep, — 

The punctual stars will vigil keep, — 

Embalmed by purifying cold ; 

The winds shall sing their dead-march old, 

The snow is no ignoble shroud, 

The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. 

Softly, — but this way fate was pointing, 
'Twas coming fast to such anointing. 
When piped a tiny voice hard by. 
Gay and pohte, a cheerful cry, 
Chic-chicadeedee ! saucy note 
Out of sound heart and merry throat, 
As if it said, " Good day, good sir ! 
Fine afternoon, old passenger ! 
Happy to meet you in these places. 
Where January brings few faces." 

This poet, though he live apart, 
Moved by his hospitable heart. 
Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort. 
To do the honors of his court. 
As fits a feathered lord of land ; 
Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand. 



140 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, 
Prints his small impress on the snow. 
Shows feats of his gymnastic play, 
Head downward, clinging to the spray. 

Here was this atom in full breath, 
Hurling defiance at vast death ; 
This scrap of valor just for play 
Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray. 
As if to shame my weak behavior ; 
I greeted loud my litde savior, 
You pet ! what dost here? and what for? 
In these woods, thy small Labrador, 
At this pinch, wee San Salvador ! 
What fire burns in that Httle chest 
So frolic, stout and self-possest? 
Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine ; 
Ashes and jet all hues outshine. 
Why are not diamonds black and gray, 
To ape thy dare-devil array ? 
And I affirm, the spacious North 
Exists to draw thy virtue forth. 
I think no virtue goes with size ; 
The reason of all cowardice 
Is, that men are overgrown. 
And, to be valiant, must come down 
To the titmouse dimension. 

'Tis good-will makes intelligence. 
And I began to catch the sense 
Of my bird's song : " Live out of doors 
In the great woods, on prairie floors. 
I dine in the sun ; when he sinks in the sea, 
I too have a hole in a hollow tree ; 
And I like less when Summer beats 
With stifling beams on these retreats. 
Than noontide twilights which snow makes 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 141 

With tempest of the bUnding flakes. 
For well the soul, if stout within, 
Can arm impregnably the skin ; 
And polar frost my frame defied, 
Made of the air that blows outside." 

With glad remembrance of my debt, 
I homeward turn ; farewell, my pet ! 
When here again thy pilgrim comes. 
He shall bring store of seeds and crumbs. 
Doubt not, so long as earth has bread. 
Thou first and foremost shalt be fed ; 
The Providence that is most large 
Takes hearts like thine in special charge, 
Helps who for their own need are strong, 
And the sky doats on cheerful song. 
Henceforth I prize thy wiry chant 
O'er all that mass and minster Vaunt ; 
For men mis-hear thy call in Spring, 
As 'twould accost some frivolous wing. 
Crying out of the hazel copse, Phe-be ! 
And, in winter, Chic-a-dee-dee ! 
I think old Caesar must have heard 
In northern Gaul my dauntless bird. 
And, echoed in some frosty wold, 
Borrowed thy battle-numbers bold. 
And I will write our annals new, 
And thank thee for a better clew, 
I, who dreamed not when I came here 
To find the antidote of fear. 
Now hear thee say in Roman key^ 
PcBan / Veni, vidi, vici. 

Explain the figures in 5 and 6. Explain lines 12-16. Give 
the special features of the grave in the snow. Repeat the pas- 
sages purely descriptive of the titmouse. Do they seem to you to 
be accurate? What philosophy does he connect with it? 



142 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

General. — Read the fragments on the poet and the poet's aim 
in the appendix (edition of 1888). Read " Merhn " and ''The 
Harp." What notions do you get of his opinion of poetry in 
general and of his own in particular? As you read and study his 
poetry, keep these opinions in mind, and see if his practice con- 
forms to his theories. Look over the titles of his poems, see that 
you know the meanings of the words. What is the subject of the 
longest poem ? Is it confined to simple description, and the record 
of observations? Does the author seem to delight in nature for 
its own sake? Read " Monadnoc." Is the treatment descriptive 
or symbolic? ''Berrying" suggests idyllic treatment; is the sub- 
ject so treated here? Do you find simple, idyllic treatment any- 
where? What are his patriotic lyrics? Do you find lyrics of the 
affections ? Of love ? Do you find narrative poems ? Does emo- 
tion or intellect predominate in his work ? Is he a logician ? Does 
he use argument? Is he a metaphysician? Is he a naturalist? 
If none of these terms fitly characterize him, why not, in each 
case? What term does? Is he a realist or an idealist? Is he 
optimistic or pessimistic ? Do you think he will ever become a 
popular poet? Why? Is his verse correct technically? Is it 
melodious and sensuous ? Is it poetic ? On what ground ? 

Amos Bronson Alcott (i 799-1887) was born in Connecticut, 
and his appetite for learning developed early. Unlike Emerson, 
his self-consciousness was strongly marked, and he was always 
readier to discourse than to give ear. There was a solid physical 
basis to his nature, and his temperament inclined him in a direc- 
tion opposite to that enjoined by his intellectual and 

A disciple of ^^^^ faculties. What a phrenologist would call rever- 
Emerson's. ± <_> 

ence, ideahty and self-esteem, were all emphasized in 

his character. He was earnest, solemn and persistent : he was 
deeply devoted to benevolent and philanthropic schemes, but was 
devoid of practical capacity. His temper was easily roused, but 
his powers of self-control enabled him quickly to subdue its mani- 
festation. There was nothing original in Mr. Alcott : his life was 
almost totally barren of incident, and his contributions to litera- 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 143 

ture are mostly of no importance. Like Margaret Fuller, he had 
some contemporary celebrity as a conversationalist, or monologuist : 
he was a figure in the group that surrounded Emerson, and he was 
identified with unfamiHar notions as to the education of children, 
diet and the conduct of hfe. The dearth of any traces of wit or 
humor in his composition (both of which Emerson possessed in a 
marked degree, though of a peculiar kind) produced, at times, an 
effect of stupidity, not incompatible with strong intelligence in many 
ways. Pie regarded himself, and was regarded by his friends, as 
an example of the moral virtues, and a pattern of what a wise and 
upright man should be. His demeanor was placid, confident and 
kindly, his movements and bearing awkward, his voice nasal but 
strong. He owed much to his environment. 

In 1833, we find him in Boston, diligently studying Plato and 
the Bible, and finding a likeness between them. Aristotle and 
Bacon were also early masters of his ; he was attacking philosophy 
on its material side, and striving thereby, with little success, to 
evolve a consistent theory of the universe. An impetus towards 
tlie spiritual was communicated to him by Coleridge's " Bio- 
graphia Literaria," and his acquaintance, soon after, with Emerson 
and other enlightened persons, kept his face turned thenceforward 
in that direction. In 1834, he opened his "Temple School" in 
the Masonic Temple Building in Boston. He proceeded upon a 
new plan, one feature of which is said to have been that of punish- 
ing refractory pupils by administering punishment upon himself 
in their presence. This method seems not always to have had 
the effect that was intended : and the publication of his " Con- 
versations on the Gospels " as held in the school, aroused much 
hostile criticism in the newspapers and elsewhere. He was de- 
fended by Emerson in the Boston "Courier," but, in 1837, at 
Emerson's advice, he gave up the instruction of the young, and 
turned his attention to the mental and moral improvement of 
children of a larger growth. 

"The Dial," a quarterly journal, was started in 1840. It was 
the chief result of the meetings of a club or circle called " The 
Symposium," which was formed in 1836, and was maintained till 



144 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

1839. The members of the club — upon whom was soon bestowed 
the nickname of " TranscendentaHsts " — were Emerson, Chan- 
ning, Ripley, Margaret Fuller, Theodore Parker, Miss 
Elizabeth P. Peabody, George Bancroft, Dr. Hedge, 
C. P. Cranch, Sam. G. Ward, Alcott and several others. They met 
four times a year, and discussed such topics as American Genius, 
Pantheism, Mysticism, Personality. The tone of the meetings seems 
not to have improved, and the club was dissolved by common con- 
sent. "The Dial" (which Alcott had the honor of naming) was 
designed to be a sort of perpetuation in Hterary form of the best 
thoughts of the former club members. Margaret Fuller edited the 
first two numbers, and Emerson the rest ; the subscription was three 
dollars a year, contributions were gratuitous and the magazine was 
read almost exclusively by the contributors. Each number contained 
136 pages, and many of the articles were in verse. Alcott sent to it 
his " Orphic Sayings," which are not verse, but a species of mys- 
tical epigrams in prose, made terse by assiduous filing, and more 
apt to be obscure than profound. ^'The Dial" was discontinued 
in 1843. ^ i^s supporters were young people, Alcott being the 
only one over forty. 

Alcott, at Mr. Emerson's suggestion, had moved to Concord in 
1839, and was supporting himself by manual labor. In 1842, 
with money procured by Emerson and others, he went to England, 
to bring about a union with advanced thinkers in that country. 
But diplomacy was not among his accomplishments ; moreover, 
he found the English less spiritual-minded than he had antici- 
pated. After a quarrel with Carlyle, who, though a prophet of 
calamity, was never in sympathy with actual reform, he came 
home, bringing two recruits with him.. He established himself 
with them at a sort of model farm, called Fruitlands, where he 
practised theories of diet, eschewing animal food, and subsisting 
on fruit and such vegetables as grew above the surface of the 
earth. He remained a vegetarian all his hfe. He also believed 
that none but white garments ought to be worn ; but he afterwards 
consented to put on a black coat, and finally was content to have 
only his shirt white. 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 



145 



Alcott had not the money- makmg faculty ; but he was married, 
and must hve. His friends helped him to establish '' Conversa- 
tions," and in various ways contrived to keep him supplied with 
the necessaries of hfe, as a small return for the abundant spiritual 
treasures which he was always prepared to lavish on them. He 
had a knack at rustic carpentry, and received commissions to 
build summer-houses and fences of boughs for Mr. Emerson and 
other Concord people. He lived in Concord all his long life 
afterwards, and his venerable face and figure were a part of the 
town. At the age of eighty-five, he published a little book of 
"Sonnets and Cansonets " — personal poems to and about some 
of his many friends. The most valuable part of his works are 
those comments and criticisms, often just and penetrating, that 
have reference to Emerson. The latter's lofty originality seems 
to have sapped the life-blood of the feebler, less unconven- 
tional spirits about him, or else, as in the case of Thoreau, drove 
them, to extravagance in the effort to maintain their independence. 
In Alcott's "Tablets " and "Concord Days " and papers reminis- 
cent of "The Dial" period may be found interesting records — and 
echoes — of his great friend and spiritual master. 



Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) had the initial distinction 
of being born in Concord, though that 
village was then nothing but a pretty ham 
let, lying between level meadows and low 
hills, on the banks of a loitering stream. 
Here, it is true, the first blood of the 
Revolution had been shed, more than 
forty years before ; but that fact might 
have lapsed into oblivion had not Emer- 
son's " Hymn," recited on the site of the 
conflict, in 1836, put a life into the event 
that is still vigorous. 

Thoreau was, remotely, of French ex- 
traction, and he had a swarthy, Norman 

cast of features : but his ancestors had Henry David Thoreau. 




146 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

become English before they became American, and the genuine 
New England farmer blood beat in his veins. Personally, he was 
odd, in all senses of the term. He was bilious in constitution and 
in temper, with a disposition somewhat prone to suspicion and jeal- 
ousy, and defiant, rather than truly independent, in spirit. He had 
a searching, watchful, unconciliating eye, a long, stealthy tread and 
an alert but not graceful figure. His heart was neither warm nor 

large, and he certainly did not share that " enthusiasm 
recluse. ^^^ humanity " which was the fashionable profession in 

his day. His habits were solitary and unsocial ; yet 
secretly he was highly sensitive to the opinion of his fellow-men, 
and would perhaps have mingled more freely with them, but 
for a perception that there was no vehement demand for his 
company. The art of pleasing was not innate in him, and he 
was too proud to cultivate it. Rather than have it appear that 
society could do without him, he resolved to make haste and 
banish society ; for a couple of years he actually lived alone in 
a hut built by himself, on the shores of Walden Pond, near 
Concord : all his life he kept out of people's way, — you were 
more apt to see his disappearing coat-tails than his face, — 
and he was most at ease in his walks through the woods and 
fields surrounding Concord, and on his exploring tramps to Can- 
ada, to Maine, to Cape Cod and along the Merrimac River. 
Thus thrown back upon himself, his egotism and self-consciousness 
could not but become emphasized : and since he might not shine 
in society, he determined to be king in the wilderness. He as- 
serted, and perhaps brought himself to beheve, that all that was 
worthy in this world lay within the compass of a walk from his 
own doorstep ; and we might add that he came to regard the 
owner of that doorstep as the centre of all this world's worth. 
Existing in space, as it were, with nothing to measure himself by, 
he seemed to himself colossal. 

Had Thoreau been nothing more than has been indicated, the 
world would not have been likely to hear of him. But there was 
more in him than this, and more still was added by education 
and by the influence of certain of his contemporaries, and of their 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS 147 

opinions. His father was able to send him to school and to 

Harvard College : after graduating he taught school, and finally 

learned surveying. This trade, and a little money that he had, 

sufficed to support one of habits so economical as his. He was 

endowed with some imagination, and it partly found expression in 

poetry — moralized descriptions of nature, a little rough in form, 

and anything but ardent in feeling, but individual and masculine. 

Several of these poems, written soon after Thoreau left college, 

were published in " The Dial," and also some essays on the natural 

history of Massachusetts. Emerson was the medium 

^ ^ • , . •,! Labors to DC 

of this early literary recognition, and his contact with ori^jiai. 

the odd and whimsical young man who had so few 
intimates inevitably had an effect upon Thoreau's develop- 
ment, both Hterary and philosophical. He did not want to 
imitate anybody, and he did his best to digest Emerson, so 
that his own work and cast of thought should not betray the 
contagion. Measurably, but not completely, he succeeded. 
His writings are thinly overspread with Thoreau, but here and 
there the coating has worn off, and the Emersonian basis shows 
through. It is quite open to question whether this has not 
done the writings more harm than good. The nectar and am- 
brosia of Emerson does not assimilate kindly with Thoreau's harsh 
and rather acrid substance. Thoreau was a humorist, — in the 
old, not in the new sense, — and it is indispensable to the pros- 
perity of the humorist that he be himself. He was no optimist, 
and he cared nothing for the welfare of mankind, or the progress of 
civilization. When, therefore, he ornaments his records of the facts 
of nature with interpretations of their moral and spiritual signif- 
icance, we feel a sense of incongruity. The interpretations have 
not the air of developing spontaneously from the interior of the 
writer's thought ; they are dehberately fitted on from the outside, 
and the marks of juncture smoothed off. On the other hand, it 
did come naturally to Thoreau to fall into a vein of talking about 
natural objects — plants, animals and meteorology — as if they 
were human creatures, and to credit them with likes, dislikes, 
thoughts and personalities. When he does this, he is entertaining 



148 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

and attractive, and it is a pity he did not develop a vein so proper 
to him, rather than snatch with his earthly hands at the Empyrean. 

His poems of observation were good, and, hke a pointer-dog, 
he could fix his gaze upon an object for a long time at a stretch. 
Nevertheless, he cannot be considered an especially objective 
writer. He reverts continually to himself, and exam- 
firTt study ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ attitude and impressions in regard to 
the thing even more solicitously than the thing itself. 
The poet in him helps the naturahst, but the philosopher sophisti- 
cates him. Now and then, in the midst of the pathless woods, 
we are aware of a queer bookish flavor in the air. The literary 
artist arranges his httle scene, pleasing in its way, and well done ; 
only it was not just the kind of pleasure we were looking for. 
Other and greater artists can do that better : what we want of 
Thoreau is his own peculiar service, and nothing else. 

In truth, he was not free from affectations ; he was radically 
provincial ; and often (as children complain of one another) he 
was '■'■ disagreeable." But he had deep and true thoughts, he was 
of pure and upright Hfe and he made a real and lasting impres- 
sion. He deserves the reputation that he has with the average 
reader, though not the violent panegyrics of his thick-and-thin 
admirers. He assumed the stoicism and some of the habits of 
the Indian, and his physical senses were approximately as acute 
as theirs ; but he was really a civilized man who never found a 
home in civilization. One leaves him with a feeling of unmixed 
kindhness ; and in his " Walden," his "Week on the Concord and 
Merrimac," his " Cape Cod " and other books, will be found many 
passages worthy of preservation, which only he could have written. 

Margaret Fuller Ossoli (1810-1850). It was not so easy, 
nor so common, for a woman to render herself conspicuous before 
1850, as it has become since then. But Margaret Fuller accom- 
plished the feat, and did it without the aid of the most effective 
weapon in woman's arsenal — personal beauty. From her early 
years, she had the determination to be noticed ; but her father, 
observing a tendency on her part to decorate her person, pointed 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 149 

out to her that she could never hope to succeed on the basis of 
physical attractions, or by recognized feminine devices : but he 
added that she possessed brains, and if she used them aright, a 
career migh»t yet await her. 

With the shrewd sense that was her most useful characteristic, 
Margaret heeded this wise advice, and heroically resolved to veil 
her plainness with her cleverness. She was not without good 
grounds for hope of success. Confidence and self-esteem she 
possessed in abundance. Her strong animal nature gave her 
energy and persistence ; she had a flow of amusing though not 
always good-natured wit ; taste, but not tact ; a capacious and 
retentive memory, and a certain intellectual pas- 
sion, which enabled her, when warm, to say and '^^^^^^^^~ 
do striking and sometimes audacious things. There 
was a good deal of feminine finesse in her composition, and 
much hardihood of character, so that it was not easy to deny 
her what she sought : she cared nothing for hostihty to her 
opinions, or for attacks upon herself, provided only her vanity 
was not affronted. If she suffered from the disadvantages, she 
also profited by the advantages of being a pioneer in the line 
she had chosen. People were so much surprised by her unprece- 
dented attitude, so amused at her wit and so disheartened by 
her display of information, that they yielded to her at discre- 
tion, and then, to account for their subjection, encouraged them- 
selves to see in her all that she claimed for herself. The stronger 
minds among them, detecting the woman who, after all, was be- 
hind this bold and brilliant demonstration, felt a kindly sympathy 
for her gallant effort, lent her their countenance and support and 
grew to feel for her the kind of affection that we are apt to bestow 
upon our own discoveries and prot^g^s. 

In looking over the field, Margaret had not failed to note the 
new departure towards culture, Germanism, Transcendental Phi- 
losophy and Humanitarianism. Here, then, must be 
her arena, and with indomitable energy she set to ^j^^^^^^^*" 
work to master all these things, and become not 
merely an associate but a leader in them all. The result stands 



150 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

4 

as one of the triumphs of perseverance and ambition. She is 
an eminent example of how acquisitions may be substituted for 
innate gifts, and even be mistaken for them. For her accom- 
plishments were not a natural and irresistible flowering-out from 
within, as in Emerson's case, but a deliberate and calculated 
plastering-on from without ; the interior being was left much in 
its original condition. None of her learning penetrated further 
than the sphere of the memory ; and though she used it, with 
considerable skill, for her own advancement, it could not be 
made to penetrate beneath the memory of her audience. But 
she gained their applause and sometimes even their awe ; and 
though she always betrayed a restlessness, not generally associr.ted 
with serenity and satisfaction of soul, she had won the only kind 
of success that could be expected. 

When " The Dial " was begun, she was its first editor, with a salary 
of two hundred dollars a year. The magazine came into existence 
as a reaction against the prevailing stagnation of the religious and 
philosophical atmosphere : but its contributors being unpaid, could 
not afford to give it their best work : many of their lucubrations 
Herconnec- were published in a crude and undigested state, and 
tion with the gave the impression of being hurried compilations 
Dial." from miscellaneous reading, largely from German 
authors. Nevertheless, some of the best work of Emerson and 
of Thoreau appeared first in its pages \ and Margaret published 
in it the earliest version of her essay on " Woman in the Nine- 
teenth Century," on which her reputation as a writer rests. It is 
clever, strenuous and bold : it is lacking in delicacy, and the 
style is sometimes turgid. But there is more native force in it 
than in any of her other productions. 

Margaret had made a conquest of Emerson, and he became 
one of her stanchest supporters, though he admits that he entered 
into the acquaintance reluctantly, distrusting her " sharp person- 
ality," and her " intense times." At first, he says, " she made me 
laugh more than I liked," and he found in her too much of the 
sibyl, and " a rather mountainous Me." But she saw the neces- 
sity of securing him, and held on till he succumbed. "Your 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 151 

people shall be my people," she declared, " and yonder darlmg 
boy" — Emerson's son Waldo — "I shall cherish as my own." 
She quartered herself in his home for months at a time, and 
made capital out of the intimacy. When, two years Emerson's 
after her death, her biography was published, Em- relation to 
erson loyally maintained her cause in it. He spoke ®^* 
of her ready sympathies, and said that she had related herself 
to all the art, thought and nobleness of New England. She 
lived much of her time in the houses of her various friends, 
giving them, in return for their hospitality, " wit, anecdote, love- 
stories, tragedies, oracles." And he adds, ''She seemed like 
the queen of some parhament of love, who carried the key to 
all confidences, and to whom every question had been finally 
referred." 

Her work on the New York "Tribune," and her "Conversa- 
tions," held in Boston, occupied her during the next few years. SHe 
was always a hard and faithful worker, giving the best she had, and 
was honestly anxious to excel. As a young woman, she had taught 

school, supporting herself and other members of her 

/- M -11 1 -r ^ . , ., , ^ Later years. 

family with the proceeds. In 1846, she sailed for 

Europe, and went to Italy, in whose political affairs she had 

conceived a vehement interest. Here, to the surprise of her 

friends, she married an Italian nobleman, much younger than 

herself, the Marquis Ossoli ; and after the birth of a boy, in 

1848, the parents decided to make their home in America. They 

set sail in 1850; the vessel was wrecked off Fire Island Light, 

on the Long Island coast, and all were drowned. Margaret was 

barely forty years 'of age. Few women, in so short a life, have 

done so much as she ; and the tragic close of her career invests 

it with a pathetic dignity. 

William Ellery Channing (i 780-1842). The reaction 
against Calvinism began before the Revolution, with ^ champion 
the heretical sermons of the Rev. Jonathan Mayhew, of Unita- 
of Boston: and Paine's "Age of Reason" had also "^nism. 
caused certain clergymen to bear lightly on the darker features 



152 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

of the creed. Their discourses were devoted to inculcating moral 
duties more than to developing the scheme of salvation. At 
length, however, what was called Unitarianism avouched itself 
as a definite departure from the old lines • and William Ellery 
Channing was its most conspicuous champion. 

Speaking broadly, war was declared between human institutions 
and nature. The emancipating influence of Swedenborg was felt 
on the religious side ; in literature, criticism analyzed many preju- 
dices : and the advance of science modified the general point of 
view. Men like Lavater, Gall and Spurzheim ransacked the mys- 
teries of humanity, and Goethe's severe but searching philosophy 
contributed much towards the intellectual revolution. 

Channing was a Harvard graduate, born in Newport, Rhode 
Island ; was a precocious and able student, but dehcate in physical 
health. In 1803, he was already a minister of the Gospel, and 
in a few years gained a reputation for eloquence in the pulpit une- 
qualled in his day and place. He was an authority on political 
and literary as well as on religious questions ; his essay on Napoleon 
Bonaparte attracted attention abroad, and that on Milton added 
to his reputation. He was in intellectual sympathy with Words- 
worth and Coleridge, relying, like them, on the essential dignity 
of human nature, and inclining to deny any intermediation be- 
tween man's soul and its Creator. Reason, he held, was adequate 
to apprehend God ; and the moral instincts we find in ourselves 
give us the measure of the Divine nature. The highest human 
state, he thought, was that in which the sense of duty is forgotten 
in the spontaneous fervor of love. Calvinism, he declared, de- 
graded man's nature, and was abhorrent to our Divine intuitions. 

Channing overflowed with a joyous and hopeful piety ; he painted 
in enchanting colors the delights of heavenly-mindedness, and 
inculcated the idea that God was ready to bless and receive, not 
the elect only, but every one who should come to Him in faith 
and charity. His enthusiasm was contagious, and his foflowers 
were many; yet he spoke from theory rather than from actual 
knowledge of men, whom he credited with a nature already 
regenerate. Nor did he see the logical conclusions to which 



RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORMERS. 153 

his doctrines might be carried. They could be used to show that 
Christ was but a man of uncommon genius, and that the Bible 
was not the revealed Word of God, since God revealed himself 
directly to his creatures. He failed to realize that as soon as 
individual conscience is made the measure of the Almighty, the 
foundations of all religion are in danger. 

His teachings were supplemented by those of Andrews Norton, 
who attempted to prove, by reference to Holy Writ, that Calvinism 
falsified its true intention. Norton (i 786-1853) was a profound 
Biblical scholar, and his arguments, though lacking in Channing's 
fervor, were lucid and convincing. He criticised the doctrine of 
the Trinity, but wrote an elaborate treatise in support of the 
genuineness of the Gospels. While Norton and Channing were 
preaching and writing to this effect in Boston, Orville Dewey 
(i 795-1882) was doing a similar work in New York. 

The secession thus begun was carried on, and carried further, 
by several vigorous minds. We have seen what course Emerson 
steered; and Theodore Parker (1810-1860), a great fighter and 
an indomitable controversiaHst, immensely in earnest and winning, 
ended by seceding even from the seceders, and establishing^ a 
church and sect of his own. His " Lessons from the World of 
Matter and the World of Man," and his " Historic Americans " 
are still read ; and during his lifetime no man's followers were 
more ardent than his. A more profound and weighty writer was 
Horace Bushnell (1802-18 76), whose many books have as yet 
lost little of their value, and whose " Moral Uses of Dark Things " 
should be studied by every student. Other names still fresh in 
the memory are John Weiss and Henry Ward Beecher, Mark 
Hopkins, John Fiske, and W. T. Harris. The latter, born in 
1835, has of late years lived in Concord. He has studied and 
digested all philosophies, from Aristotle to Emerson, and wher- 
ever the new light is 'iDrightest and clearest, he is to be found. 
He edited the ''Journal of Speculative Philosophy," and he him- 
self constructed an " Outline of Philosophy," which seems to 
embody most of the sound features of previous systems, and to 
eliminate their errors. Jones Very (181 3-1880) was a sort of 



154 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

slender American shadow of William Blake, with the masculine 
strength and the painter's genius left out ; he was a mystic and 
a spiritist, and wrote some deep and delicate Uttle poems under 
what he believed to be direct spirit guidance. Finally, Henry 
James, Sr. (1811-1882), the father of the novelist, may be 
regarded — though his first substantial volume bears date 1863 
— as a writer who belongs to the future rather than to the present. 
His principal books, — '' Substance and Shadow," " The Secret 
of Swedenborg," and '' Society the Redeemed Form of Man," — 
written in a style which, for wit and humor, vigor, elevation, and 
rich, homely flavor, has never been surpassed, treat of the largest 
problems of man and his destiny. Their point of view is radi- 
cally novel, and yet affirms views of the relations between Creator 
and creature which are in some senses far more orthodox than 
those of the Unitarian dissenters. The validity of the Divine 
Incarnation is especially insisted on, and a light is thrown upon 
its esoteric significance, concerning the bearing of which upon 
future religious philosophizing it is still too early to pass an opinion. 
Mr. James's writings are, at all events, one of the later and most 
powerful products of that spiritual quickening which has done so 
much to ally religion with literature. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 155 



VIII. 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

Men and women cannot be nourished on abstractions. Theories 
and philosophical speculations are artificial things. There is no 
thought apart from the person thinking, and no rule of Ufe dis- 
tinct from the person by whom it is obeyed. In actual experience 
there is no knowledge, nor any knowing person, unless there is 
a thing for that person to know. Logicians call the person know- 
ing, the subject 'of knowledge ; and the thing known, the object of 
knowledge ; and (for convenience of reasoning and ^ metaphys- 
analyzing) they separate the one from the other, and icai distinc- 
consider them separately. But in reality the object ^°^' 
known creates the subject knowing : and if the object is taken 
away, the subject (so far as that object is concerned) ceases to 
exist. You know a flower, so long as the flower is there ; but if 
it is not there, neither are you there to know it. 

Object and subject, then, are one by the fact of their mutual 
relation; and to separate them in thought is an arbitrary and 
unreal expedient. There can be no principles save as illustrated 
by human beings; therefore to gain a living understanding of 
principles we must study not the principles in the abstract, but 
the human beings themselves. Men Hke Fourier, Emerson and 
Channing had been dealing in abstractions. But abstractions are 
dead : to make them live they must be restored to the sphere 
of concrete human experience from which they were abstracted. 
The mass of people have not creative imagination, and, until they 
are shown principles in practical operation, they are mere words 
to them. 

For more than thirty years America had been listening to 
theorists and philosophers, who stated their propositions and 



156 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

demonstrated them by logic, and even got the truth of their 
demonstrations admitted. But this having been done, nothing 
seemed to follow. Creation had been explained, error had been 
exposed, remedies advocated ; and yet earth, man and heaven 
remained unaltered. People went about their affairs as if all this 
learning, ingenuity and eloquence were no more than the declaim- 
ing of actors in a play. These were fine, exhilarating sentiments 
that they had heard ; but, personally and practically, they did 
not know what to do with them. What is one to do with an 
abstraction ? 

No truth is wasted : but its usefulness must remain in abeyance 
until it has been applied to life. Man cannot be nourished through 
his intellect alone. His feehngs must be aroused — his sym- 
Reasondoes P^thies, aversions, loves and fears. He must be led 
not express to think of himself as involved, actively and ardently, 
all of life. -^^ ^j^g working out of ideas. He must be shown, 
not a mathematical diagram, but a picture, with all the warmth 
and color of life. He must see human figures, hear their voices, 
and witness their joys and griefs. His heart must beat in response 
to theirs ; he must feel their presence and share their emotions. 
He must know their names, faces and habits, and enter into their 
existence as his own. A genius was needed to interpret life 
from within, instead of any longer dissecting its divorced parts. 
This genius appeared in Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

He had nothing to do with abstractions. Man, living in his nat- 
ural environment, was the game he hunted. Philosophy, as dis- 
tinct from persons, had no interest for him. He turned human 
beings into philosophy, and he turned philosophy into 
field* ^^^^'^ human beings. He neither ignored the spirit of 
things in painting the outside, nor did he neglect 
the outside in order to exploit the spirit. He did not even 
penetrate through the surf^ice to the interior; but he entered 
by sympathy into the being he was studying, looked out through 
his eyes, felt his circumstances, performed his actions and thought 
his thoughts, and thus livingly and completely interpreted him. 
He was no vivisector of humanity, as has been asserted, nor did 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 157 

he ever violate its sanctities ; but, because he profoundly com- 
prehended it, he treated it with tenderness and reverence. 

The books he wrote dififer in character from what had been 
called novels; nor did they more resemble the conventional 
romance. Their author called them romances ; but he added a 
definition of romance which had never before been made. In 
fact, the books are unique in kind. Neither before nor since their 
appearance have any other books been wTitten which can be 
classed with them either in point of execution or conception. 
They comprehend the sphere of thought belonging to the period 
we have been discussing ; they incarnate this thought in humanity, 
and they transfigure the incarnation by art. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne (i 804-1 864) was born in Salem, Mas- 
sachusetts, on the Fourth of July. His immediate ancestors were 
seafaring men, trading with the East Indies. An uncle had com- 
manded a privateer in the Revolution. A more 
remote progenitor was a judge, and had been con- 
cerned in the trials of the witches in the seventeenth century. 
Others had commanded troops against the Indians. The race 
had the characteristics of the Puritans, and were held to be even 
more stern and unconciliating than the average of their kind. 

Nathaniel's mother was a woman of beauty, dignity, and un- 
usual intellect. He more resembled her than his father, who died 
when he was a child. His mother retired from society and be- 
came a recluse in her own house. The boy was educated under 

the superintendence of his maternal uncle, but was 

Boyhood, 
not an assiduous student. He liked desultory read- 
ing, out-door play, hunting and skating. He had an arch love of 
mischief, a consciousness of power, and a healthy independence 
of character. He was never in a hurry, and took life easily and 
with enjoyment. He showed signs of an active imagination, 
objective and wholesome. Personally he was a finely-built, 
athletic and very handsome boy, and strength and beauty char- 
acterized him through life. He never suffered from illness. 

His uncle owned an estate at Raymond, in Maine, on the bor- 



158 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

ders of Sebago Lake, and surrounded by the primeval forest. He 
spent some years there, tracking bear, shooting small game, and 
boating or skating on the lake. Fitting himself leisurely for col- 
lege, he entered Bowdoin in 182 1. He showed himself a good 
Latin and Greek scholar, but neither sought nor obtained high 
rank. After taking his degree, he returned to Salem, and lived 
there with his mother and his two sisters for twelve years. None 
of the family either went into or received society. Young Haw- 
thorne had a social and friendly nature, but he did not depend on 
others for his happiness, and, living thus, the habit of solitude and 
seclusion grew on him. From the age of twenty- one to thirty- 
three, he may be said to have been practically without a companion 
in the world. As regards his genius, it was the most important 
period of his life. 

Once in a while, he would make a solitary excursion into the 
New Hampshire hills, or, going further north, would spend a week 
or two with his friend Bridge, a classmate, and the only man with 
whom he stood on a footing approaching intimacy. He read a 
good deal, meditated more than he read, and wrote somewhat. 
Most of what he wrote, he burnt ; some articles 
^Th^ h' appeared in periodicals, but seldom over his own 
signature. No one seemed to read them, and no one 
seemed to know that he wrote them. At length a young lady 
living a few doors from him identified him as the author of a 
sketch called " The Gentle Boy," and this was the means of his 
being seen again in the world, after so long a retirement. A 
few years later he became engaged to the sister of the lady who 
had drawn him from his seclusion ; and after he had made experi- 
ment (with unfavorable results) of the new Brook Farm Com- 
munity, he married Miss Sophia Peabody, and they went to live 
in the Old Manse, at Concord. 

From 1842 to 1853, Hawthorne was supported partly by writ- 
ing, and partly as surveyor in the Salem Custom House. In 1850 
he wrote the " Scarlet Letter." The " House of the Seven Gables," 
"The Bhthedale Romance," "The Wonder Book," and "Tangle- 
wood Tales," all appeared, successively, during the next three 




NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, 159 

years. He had published, before 1850, four volumes of short 
sketches, called " Twice-Told Tales " and " Mosses from an Old 
Manse," besides some historical and biographical sketches for chil- 
dren, under the title of " Grandfather's Chair " ; and " The Snow 
Image, and Other Stories." In 1853, Franklin Pierce, 
the new. president, a college friend of Hawthorne jilstoryf 
(who had written a campaign biography of him), 
appointed him consul at Liverpool, England. He took his family 
thither : shortly before his term of office expired, he resigned it, 
and visited France and Italy. He 
returned to England to spend the 
winter of 1859, and to write his 
" Marble Faun," The following sum- 
mer he returned to America, and 
took up his residence on a Httle 
estate he had purchased before leav- 
ing home, — The Wayside, in Con- 

j T-T 1 11 "The Old Manse." 

cord. Here he worked on a new 

romance; but his health had begun to fail, and the Civil War 
disturbed his mind. He gave up the romance, but published 
a volume of sketches of his English experience (which he had 
designed to use as the background and side-scenes of the story) 
under the title of "Our Old Home." Shortly after, he once 
more took up the romance, under a new conception, and two 
instalments of it were printed in the "Atlantic Monthly Maga- 
zine." He died suddenly, on May 19, 1864, while on a journey 
to New Hampshire in search of health with his friend Frankhn 
Pierce. After his death were published " Septimius, a Romance," 
"American Note-Books," "English Note-Books," "French and 
Italian Note-Books," and "Doctor Grimshawe's Secret," a romance. 
The " Septimius " and the " Grimshawe " were the abortive studies 
that he had written, but had not prepared for the press, on his 
return from England. To them may be added the chapters 
of " The Dolliver Romance " that appeared in the " Atlantic 
Monthly." 

This career has little to recommend it in the way of adventure 



160 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

or vicissitude : but, such as it is, it is the outward biography of 
the greatest of American men of letters. His mental and spiritual 
history is more interesting ; and to study it we must have recourse 
to his own writings. He sometimes alludes to himself, in a semi- 
impersonal way, in the prefaces to his books ; but, as he remarks, 
'' these things hide the man, instead of displaying him. You must 
make quite another kind of inquest, and look through the range 
of his fictitious characters, in order to detect any of his essential 
traits." 

In the " Ambitious Guest," one of his earlier stories, we find 
this allusion to the hero of the tale, in which Hawthorne is evi- 
dently speaking of himself: "A glory was to beam upon his 
pathway, though not, perhaps, while he was treading it. But 
posterity should confess that a gifted one had passed from the 
cradle to the tomb, with none to recognize him." There we have 
a glimpse of one of his moods during that long, solitary vigil of 
twelve years in Salem. Elsewhere, still speaking of himself under 

the guise of an imaginary character, he refers to the 
crapMcal ^^^ of sympathy and understanding with which his 

essays in literature were met by his fellow towns- 
people. He was " ranked with tavern hunters, and town paupers, 
and the drunken poets who hawked their ballads in the streets " : 
he had no readers, still less any critics, and no materials but 
thin air to concoct his stories of. " I used to think," he remarked 
long afterwards, " that I could imagine all feelings and passions ; 
but how Httle I knew ! " He began to fear lest the habit of 
seclusion should so grow upon him that he would never be able 
to escape from it. "An influence beyond our control," he says 
in "Wakefield," "lays its strong hand on every deed we do, and 
weaves its consequences into an iron tissue of necessity. Amid 
the seeming confusion of our mysterious world, individuals are 
so nicely adjusted to a system, that, by stepping aside for a 
^moment, a man exposes himself to a fearful risk of losing his 
place forever." 

But this period of retirement was doubtless of lasting value in 
developing his genius. Like the young champions of mediaeval 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 161 

times, on the eve of knighthood, he was shut up alone, to watch 
and pray beside his armor. Only a powerful and finely balanced 
organization could have endured the strain, and emerged the 
stronger for it. " Was there ever such a delay in obtaining recog- 
nition?" he exclaims. " I sat down by the wayside of hfe like a 
man under enchantment. There is no fate in the world so horrible 
as to have no share in either its joys or sorrows. I have not lived : 
I have only dreamed of living." But Providence regards not the 
individual's comfort, but his uses. For the work Hawthorne had 
to do, not only his native ability was needed, but the test of 
banishment to the Wilderness. Meditation would 
create in him a touchstone of truth, wherewith 1,^00^^^° 
to search the human heart. When, at length, he 
emerged, it was with strange powers and gifts. " Angels seemed 
to have sat with him at the fireside," he says, in "The Great 
Stone Face," " and he had imbibed the sublimity of their ideas, 
and imbued it with the sweet and lowly charm of household 
words." He had the wise instinct not to hasten his develop- 
ment. He would not pull up the seeds in his mental garden, to 
see how they were growing. His power to be patient equalled 
his need of patience. Nor was he ever extravagant : for he had 
both profound humor and sterhng common sense. " The great, 
round, solid earth " he was so fond of is ever under his feet : he 
recognized the vastness of the creative plan : he took his stand at 
the centre of things : and the genesis of his most airy vagaries 
can always be traced to some settled basis of fact or truth. 

At first, he intimates, " I immensely underrated the difficulties of 
my trade ; but now I recognized that it demanded nothing short 
of my whole powers." He was not only his own sole critic, but 
also the severest that ever sat in judgment on him. For his twelve 
years' work, he had to show only some forty-five short sketches : 
the rest he had burnt unprinted. The practical side of his nature 
kept the imaginative side in check ; and this self-poise it was that 
enabled him to write " Hawthornesque " romance, which, " while, as 
a work of art, it must rigidly subject itself to laws," and " while it sins 
unpardonably so far as it may swerve aside from the truth of the 



162 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

human heart, has fairly a right to present that truth under circum- 
stances, to a great extent, of the writer's own choosing or ere- 
ation." But, in pruning, he strengthened his imagination, until he 
could see through the changing and turbulent shows of things to 
the serene and permanent realities underneath. At the age of 
twenty-seven, we may suppose him to have mastered his art. 
Thenceforward he could do anything in it that he wished. 

It may have been that he did not, originally, intend to devote 
himself exclusively to works of imagination or fiction. But he soon 
found that he could utter himself fully in no other way. He saw 
the soul of things, and spoke in tropes. He humanized everything 
he touched, bringing it into relation with the spirit of man. He 
could not simply recite bare facts : he must show them colored 
and solidified by imagination. Moreover, he desired to touch the 
Fiction his heart of mankind with his own. He aimed, in his 
proper in- tales, not to approve himself an original thinker, but 
s rumen . ^^ establish bonds of sympathy with his fellow-men. 
To be true, not to be " original," was his resolve : and truth is 
for its wearer a cloak of invisibility, because of its impersonal 
quality, and enables him to mingle freely in all societies, seeing, 
but unseen. 

Though by training exclusive, Hawthorne was deeply conscious 
of the universal brotherhood of man. In "The Procession of 
Life " he considers the various ties which unite men together. 
Notion of Intellectual power " is but a higher development of 
universal innate gifts common to all, and will vanish beyond 
brotherhood. ^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^ present world." But when the 

trumpet sounds for the Guilty to assemble, '' even the purest 
may be sensible of some faint responding echo in his heart. 
Many, however, will be astonished at the fatal impulse that 
drags them thitherward. Nothing is more remarkable than the 
various deceptions by which guilt conceals itself from the perpe- 
trator's conscience." This point is touched on in other places, 
as, for instance, in "Fancy's Show-box": "Man must not dis- 
claim his brotherhood even with the guiltiest, since, though his 
hand be clean, his heart has surely been polluted by the flitting 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 163 

phantoms of iniquity." Again, in ''Young Goodman Brown" — 
" Evil is the nature of mankind " : and in " The Minister's Black 
Veil," — "I look around me, and lo ! on every visage a black 
veil ! " 

In " The Hall of Fantasy " Hawthorne passes in review, with a 
glance half playful and half serious, the whole matter of Reform 
that was then agitating the country. He saw there the " repre- 
sentatives of an unquiet period, when mankind is seeking to cast 
off the whole tissue of ancient custom, like a tattered garment." 
But, through the confusion of their incompatible notions, he per- 
ceives that they were ''united in one sentiment — the struggle of 
the race after a better and a purer life than had yet been realized 
on the earth." And although " truth has an intoxicating quality 
when imbibed by any save a powerful intellect, and often impels 
the quaffer to quarrel in his cups," nevertheless, " above them all 
is the breadth of Providence." 

AlHed with this theme is the empty nature of many of the accu- 
mulations of our present civilization, which are treated of in 
"Earth's Holocaust" — the great bonfire in which all such super- 
fluities are to be consumed. But while conceding to the reform- 
ers that nature may be better than books, and the 
mind deeper than any system of philosophy, yet he ^^^^^^ 
points out that unless the heart be purified, and we go 
deeper than the intellect, " our whole accomplishment is a dream." 
But the most sweeping reforms can do no real harm, since 
"not a truth is destroyed, and only what is evil can feel the 
action of the fire." 

The subject is treated from another point of view in "The New 
Adam and Eve." Here the circumstances of civilized life are 
detached from the traditional quality that they have acquired, and 
are criticised as they are in themselves. The new beings have no 
comprehension of our machinery for measuring time, for " nature 
would measure time by the succession of thoughts and acts which 
constitute our real Hfe." They are perplexed by the church, for 
" their life thus far has been a constant prayer ; purity and sim- 
plicity hold converse at every moment with their Creator." Still 



164 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

less can they fathom the meaning of the prison. Every remedy 
for the cure of sin had been tried except Love - — " the flower 
that grew in Heaven and was sovereign for all the miseries of 
earth." Nothing so well as a creative and reverent imagination 
can loosen the fetters which we mistakenly call truth and reahty, 
and make us sensible what prisoners we are. 

Hawthorne's works do not contain much direct discussion of 
religion. He did not insist on a rational explanation of all mys- 
teries. What is essential, is intuitive. Because for the present 
the Creator withholds the spiritual perception, we are not to con- 
tend that there is no spiritual world. There is a world which will 
fulfil all the wants of the human soul : and even here, what is 
good and true becomes fixed, while error melts away and vanishes. 
The deeper the level at which Hawthorne moves, the 

His religious .^^^^ optimistic does he become. His most momen- 
views. ^ 

tous conclusions are also his most hopeful ones. He 

is never commonplace, and, on the other hand, is never sensa- 
tional, but says the thing to which our unprejudiced judgment 
must agree. And yet no writer in our literature is so revolutionary 
as Hawthorne. We do not observe it, for the very reason that 
he is so profound. 

Such are some of the hints as to Hawthorne's character and 
opinions that may be gathered from the volumes preceding the 
publication of " The Scarlet Letter." We have made use of them 
more particularly because they are less widely known than are his 
great romances, and also cover a wider field. Beautiful as stories 
though his early pieces are, the story in them was never his chief 
object. They are wrought out of the substance of his life, and 
are alive, depth beyond depth. Nothing 'but the framework of 
them is fictitious : their substance is truth : and art is the form 
that symmetrical truth assumes, and to which imagination gives 
solidity. 

The " Scarlet Letter " was Hawthorne's first complete expres- 
sion of a single given group of ideas. Like all his longer ro- 
mances, it has a rich, multifarious life of its own. When an 
architect builds a temple, it owes its design to him, but all the 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 165 

rest to nature. Nature made the marble, the earth on which the 
temple stands, the trees and mountains that are its background, 
the sun and shade that rest upon its pediment and 
pillars. In " The Scarlet Letter " the design of Lg^ten ^ ^ 
the story is a matter of judgment and selection ; 
but the treatment — which belongs to Hawthorne's genius — 
bears the same relation to the plot that nature bears to the 
idea of the temple. Even in the choice of a certain one out 
of several possible aspects of the theme, Hawthorne, however, 
displays rare wisdom. He declined to tell the story of the 
enacting of the sin, for that, however interesting from the sensa- 
tional point of view, was vulgar and commonplace, and involved 
no spiritual lesson. He perceived that the true importance of 
the narrative was in the consequences of the sinful act upon 
the natures of the actors ; in the methods adopted by society, 
and by the husband, to punish it, and in the final solution 
which the errors of all concerned negatively indicated. Having 
chosen his field, he proceeded to do his work as only he could 
have done it. 

Consider, for example, what subtle and impressive use he makes 
of the scarlet letter itself. To an ordinary writer it might have 
proved an inconvenience ; but to Hawthorne it is a means of con- 
veying impressions too dehcate to be put in direct words. He 
has, indeed, a fondness for such figurative symbols, and employs 
them always to spiritualize the grossness of the subject, and to 
transmute its prose to poetry. We feel how the ^j^^jg^^g^. 
terrible letter burns on Hester's breast ; we see it cast 
a glov/ along her pathway, and we perceive how, while isolating 
her in literal fact, it mystically reveals the sympathetic but secret 
guilt of others. By a ghasdy miracle it is revealed on the breast 
of the minister, Dimmesdale. And at length, to the morbid eye 
of the transgressor, it appears, drawn in fire, on the face of the 
sky itself. 

Dimmesdale, Hester and Chillingworth work out their several 
destinies, and the solution finally reached has the inevitable force 
of a living experience. But Pearl, Hester's httle child, is the 



166 AMERICAN LITERATITRE. 

great original creation of the book. She would much have em- 
barrassed the ordinary novelist, but Hawthorne makes her the 
focus of the drama. She is a unique figure in literature, and so 
vivid is her vitality, she seems to spring from the 
page, and become incarnate before our eyes. Pearl 
is Hester's greatest torture, but she is her blessing and salva- 
tion as well. '' Make my excuses to him," she says to old 
Mistress Hibbard, in response to the latter's invitation to meet 
the Black Man in the torest ; " I must tarry at home and 
keep watch over my little Pearl." The child is like a beautiful 
but poisonous flower, rejoicing in its poison, and receiving it 
as the very breath of its life ; yet, being a child, and without 
experience, she is devoid of evil and of good principles alike : she 
is in the instinctive stage of growth. And as the same pure sun- 
light vivifies noxious as well as benign forms of existence, so the 
evil proclivities in Pearl's nature are energized, but not consti- 
tuted, by the Divine source of her being. 

In " Rappacini's Daughter," one of Hawthorne's shorter tales, 
the character of Beatrice presents a problem somewhat similar to 
Pearl's. The former is nourished upon poisons, until her touch 
and her breath become a concentration of poison. In both cases, 
The subject ^^^ personal soul stands behind the imported evil, 
in another and the question stands, Shall the soul become the 
^ ^^^* victim of its involuntary circumstances ? Hawthorne, 

in both cases, incKnes to the brighter alternative. He suggests 
that although, for inscrutable purposes, God incarnates us in evil, 
our souls need not therefore suffer destruction. Again, in " The 
Marble Faun," the last, and perhaps the greatest of Hawthorne's 
books, we find Miriam involved in the shadovv of another's crime. 
Possessing a strong will, and moral independence, her intellect 
and her creative imagination are aroused, and she canvasses 
every aspect of her position, coming to the conclusion that guilt 
could not rightly be ascribed to her. Nevertheless, under the 
influence of the shadow, she goes astray ; for every crime is made 
to be the agony of many innocent persons. On the other hand, 
the criminal act, committed for Miriam's sake, by the faun-like 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 167 

Donatello, kindles him into a man, and the grief and pain that 
follow develop in him a more definite and nobler individuahty. 

"The House of the Seven Gables," which followed the "Scarlet 
Letter," shows how the tendency of families to isolate themselves 
from the race, and to deny the humane instincts of the universal 
human brotherhood, results in disaster. It takes two hundred 
years for the crime which the first Pyncheon committed against 
the first Maule to work itself off: but at length we see the forces 
of the general humanity overcome the inevitable consequences of 
one rampant individuality, that undertook to wield the thunder- 
bolts of Omnipotence against a fellow-mortal. Love, in every 
pure and unselfish form, undoes the spell that pride and pharisee- 
ism had laid upon the house of Pyncheon ; and the latest descend- 
ants of the two enemies lay asleep the Fury of Retribution by 
their marriage. 

In "The Blithedale Romance," a more familiar form of the 
opposition between the law of individuality and that of our com- 
mon nature is considered. The book is founded upon the famous 
Brook Farm episode, in which were concerned some of the lead- 
ing minds of New England in 1841. Speculations had been en- 
tertained regarding the moral validity of the marriage-contract as 
at present administered, and as to whether the a discussion 

family were the true and final basis of the State. ^^ *^® 

< < Brook 
The story goes to show that by adopting schemes of Farm" 

social organization based on abstractions of indi- experiment. 
vidual intellects, we are liable to immolate thereto the hearts 
of those whom profound affinity and generous imagination have 
attracted to us. "Tell him he's murdered me ! " exclaims Zeno- 
bia, speaking of Hollingsworth to Miles Coverdale. No real phi- 
lanthropy can result from social action that ignores the personal 
duties of parents, children, brothers and sisters, husbands and 
wives, lovers and friends. 

But it is not necessary to hunt for theories in the mellow sub- 
stance of Hawthorne's artistic conceptions. He himself, as we 
know, had a repugnance to theories, and generally restricted him- 
self to suggestions, knowing how apt is truth to escape from the 



168 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

narrow limits of a logical deduction. He imagined a moral situa- 
tion, with characters to fit it, and then permitted the theme to 
develop in such form as its innate quality directed, enriching its 
roots and decorating its boughs with the wealth of his experience 
and meditation. In an ordinary novel of episode, this method 
would not answer, for there is no innate law of development in 
such things ; they are constructed, but do not grow ; and, if the 
constructive skill be deficient, they prove unsymmetrical. The 
tree has but to be planted, and wisely watched and pruned, and it 
will make good its own excuse for being ; but the house depends 
on the builder, for the former, unlike the latter, has its own life 

A v^+i, and desiofn in it. This is the difference between 
A new Dirtn t) 

of Litera- stories in Hawthorne's vein and all others. He is 
^^^^* the most modern of writers ; he has divined — 

what few even yet suspect — the new birth of literature. Hith- 
erto, in fiction, writers have been content to imitate life ; but 
such imitation has been carried as near to perfection as -is 
perhaps possible. The next step is a great one, but — unless 
we return upon our tracks, and vamp-up afresh the methods of 
the past — it cannot be shunned. For what lies beyond an imita- 
tion of life ? — Nothing more nor less than hfe itself. Doubdess, 
many will be slow to beheve that a work of imagination can be 
exalted from an imitation of life into life itself. But Shakespeare's 
plays live, and Hawthorne's romances are alive. A soul is in 
them : they are conceived on the spiritual plane. The soul, like 
other souls, assumes a body; but the body exists only because 
the soul, beforehand, is ; and the latter is independent of the for- 
mer. How this life is to be imparted is another question : the 
process can be no easy one. He who gives life can have no life 
save his own to give. It is not a matter of note-books, of obser- 
vation, of learning, of cleverness. The workshop whence issue 
works that live is a very interior chamber ; and only those who 
have entered it (perhaps not even they) can reveal its secrets. 

The day of dead or galvanized fiction is coming to an end, 
although, just at present, there is a more than ordinary quantity of 
cunningly wrought images on hand. The progress of the human 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 169 

race implies more than electricity and airships would prepare 
us for. The true conquest of matter by mind, being a religious 
rather than a scientific transaction, will be felt obscurely and 
vaguely long before it can be explicitly acknowledged. But when- 
ever the time of acknowledgment comes, credit will be given to 
Nathaniel Hawthorne. 



170 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



IX. 
FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 

During several years before and after the Civil War, no new 
element entered into our literature. Many books, of many kinds, 
were written ; and, viewed as a whole, they show that American 
writers were maturing in taste, and fully holding the ground they 
had gained. But no new light broke upon the scene : no symp- 
toms of an original departure were visible. After the intellectual 
speculations and vagaries of the preceding generation, there en- 
sued, if not a reaction, at least a pause ; and the conflict of march- 
ing regiments and discharging cannon took the place 
w^ oeriod ^^ warring minds. The Civil War was the symbol and 
the settlement, on the material plane, of the spiritual 
unrest of the earlier decades. And after the last gun had been 
fired, the nation stood still for a while, panting from the struggle, 
and doubtful what step to take next. 

The leading elder writers polished and perfected themselves on 
lines already laid down ; the others did what they could, but knew 
not precisely what to do. The present dispute between Realists 
and Romanticists had not then been invented. Each author fol- 
lowed his own whim, with no thought of literary methods, princi- 
ples, or progress. Save for half-a-dozen men at the top, there was 
no money to be made in the profession. There was no criticism 
to guide, restrain, and stimulate new writers : the very few good 
critics we had either applied themselves to foreign Hterature, or to 
the works of such native authors as had obtained a European rep- 
utation. The age of periodicals had scarcely begun, and there was 
no means of reaching readers except by bound books, which then, 
and until quite recently, had to compete against cheap stolen goods. 

This lethargy brooded over American literature until about 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 171 

1870, when a young man from the West sent a breath of freshness 
into the atmosphere. Since then, several new elements have 
declared themselves ; there has been some progress, and much 
discussion and analysis. If we have as yet found no very great 
new writer, we at least speculate as to what he ought to do when 
he arrives. His work lies ready to his hand. Meanwhile vve wifi 
pass in review the leading features of the generation that is passing 
away. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes (i 809-1 894) was the son of Abiel 
Holmes, a Harvard pastor and a historian, who was descended 
from an English barrister. The first emigrant settled in Con- 
necticut. On his mother's side he was derived from Dor- 
othy Quincy, and from the Wendells, who came from Friesland. 
Oliver graduated from Harvard in 1829, and afterwards studied 

law and medicine, spending three years abroad in the ^. ^. , 
' ^ ° ^ . Biographical 

pursuit of the latter profession. He took his doctor's of the 

degree in 18^6, and was made professor at Dartmouth "American 

Laureate." 
three years later. In 1840 he married, and lived in 

Boston, where all his children were born. He resigned his 
Dartmouth professorship, and practised as a physician in Bos- 
ton ; in 1847 he became a professor at Harvard. Besides his 
lectures to students, he became a familiar and popular figure 
on the lyceum platform. In 1857, "The Atlantic Monthly" 
was begun, and Holmes contributed to it his "Autocrat of the 
Breakfast Table." Hitherto he had been known as a writer of 
witty or patriotic poems for occasions : but this prose serial gave 
him a solid reputation as a humorist, a man of ideas, and a charm- 
ing writer. In 1859, he published "Elsie Venner," his first novel, 
^r romance; and in 1867, his second, "The Guardian Angel." 
Meanwhile, during the war, he journeyed to the seat of hostilities 
to find his son, Captain Holmes, who had been wounded at Ball's 
Bluff; and the story of this experience was told in the "Atlantic." 
Medicine, literature, and the labors imposed by his own great 
popularity, kept him busy until 1884, when he took another trip 
abroad, after an interval of more than half a century. He was 



172 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

welcomed there by thousands of friends whom he had never seen. 
Returning after three months' sojourn, he settled down to pass his 
remaining years in the house on Beacon Street, Boston. There 
has never been a more faithful Bostonian than Holmes. Since 
1840 he has lived in that city uninterruptedly, — of itself an 
achievement of note. 

Holmes's temperament is mercurial, without being either fickle 
or shallow. The quickness of his mind gives him wit ; and his 
quick sympathies, both pathos and humor. A harmonious organ- 
ization renders him capable of good poetry ; and 
IS empera- ^^ agile and independent intellect has distinguished 
him in science, and the criticism of life. His intense 
love of approbation arises not from vanity, but from his desire to 
be at one with his fellow-men. His enthusiastic patriotism is the 
outcome of the loyalty of his character, of his devotion to high 
ideals, and of his unswerving optimism — which last may be 
credited to his excellent powers of digestion, physical and mental. 
Holmes has opinions upon a great variety of subjects, and it \i 
his delight to express them, whether in speech, in prose, or ir» 
rhyme. He has thought discursively and indepen- 
tility^^^*" clently ; the results of his thinking tend to formulate 
themselves in epigrammatic form : relations are 
pointed out between things apparently remote, there is a con- 
stant sparkle of wit, which never descends to buffoonery, and 
he says a surprising number of what are termed '' good things " 
— a feature in which he has had many imitators, who prove 
their master's excellence by their own few and partial successes. 
Some of the effect of Holmes's brilliance is, on the other hand, 
lost by reason of its frequency : and some of his poorest things 
are, at a hasty glance, so much like his best, as to give a feeling 
of uneasiness to the reader. Holmes refreshes commonplaces 
more often than he creates or discovers ; and we are oftener 
indebted to him for refined amusement than for absolute infor- 
mation. Yet he gives an abundance of both. 

The greater part of his writings, outside of his purely scientific 
essays, is practically the autobiography of his mind and heart. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 173 

He wishes to teli all that he feels and thinks, and to be assured 
that his audience agrees with him. He watches unconscious 
habits, characteristic traits, and every-day occurrences, and de- 
picts and comments on them with good-humored acuteness, often 
enhanced by the promulgation of certain shrewd theories of physi- 
ological and psychological life, evolved from his own meditations 
and researches. It is in the current of every-day life that he dis- 
ports himself most willingly : nothing morbid, far-fetched or sin- 
gular attracts him, unless he can reconcile it with established laws. 
In " Elsie Venner," for example, the girl is a sort of human snake : 
but Holmes does not rest until he has made the phenomenon 
appear physiologically plausible. " The Guardian Angel " intro- 
duces us to another young lady whose psychological eccentricities 
are reconciled with physiological facts. He always looks for the 
obvious in the abstruse, and uniformly finds it. Absolute mystery, 
or the spiritual meaning of material events, has few charms for 
him. Nevertheless, the best poem he has written — 
"The Chambered Nautilus" — is a graceful and ar- ^otVep" 
tistic piece of symbolism. No author of Holmes's 
calibre has covered a broader range in literature, or has so 
seldom failed ; yet, broad though his range is, he is, himself, 
not deep. He is many-sided, and touches life at many points ; 
but the touch, though accurate and reasonable, is light — never 
profound. We are sensible of no spaces in reserve beneath 
his surface : whatever there is of him we see at once. There 
are no surprises or problems in his character. He is cheerful, 
vivacious, kindly, rational, shrewd : with a strong vein of senti- 
ment lying side by side with the keenest sense of the ridiculous. 
He is not great ; but what there is of him is very good, and, if his 
writings afforded nothing else than pure and wholesome entertain- 
ment, they afford so much of that that we owe him a debt. 

Holmes's representative poems are "The Constitution," "The 
Wonderful One-Horse Shay" and "The Chambered somerepre- 
Nautilus," — the first illustrating his patriotic style, sentative 
the next his comic humor and the third his highest P°^™^' 
plane of sentiment. "The Last Leaf" is also a chief favorite 



174 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

among his poems, and perhaps no other piece so good of that 
kind has been written. A large part of Hohnes's verses was 
written to be read at celebrations, anniversaries and banquets ; 
they are excellent examples of that species of rhymed, witty, 
sentimental eloquence. Holmes is never dull, except as too 
constant liveliness dulls the edge of appreciation. 

But his most characteristic work is his series of " Autocrat " 
essays — a narrative, discursive, philosophizing, criticising mono- 
logue, which he invented for his own use, and which gives him 
The "Auto- untrammelled opportunity to say whatever he wishes 
crat" in his own way: the chapters are lay sermons, de- 

Series, lightful to read, which stop just short of being great. 

The writer has his own way of saying as well as of thinking 
things ; but the method more often than the material is new. 
He changes the disposition of the furniture of our minds, with- 
out changing the furniture itself. He gives a new flavor to 
our ideas, without opening to us a world of ideas hitherto 
unexplored. His character-drawing is graphic, and he has a 
sharp ear for idioms and intonations of speech. He penetrates 
as far into human nature as common-sense, sympathetic intel- 
ligence and apposite learning can take him ; and the general 
result of his disquisitions is to simplify and brighten our concep- 
tion of men and things. 

"The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" appeared in 1858, 
"The Professor at the Breakfast Table " in 1859, and "The Poet 
at the Breakfast Table" in 1873. Holmes also wrote biographies 
of Motley and of Emerson ; model records of fact and character, 
but not interpretive or intuitive. Of late years he has contributed 
to the " Adantic " other series of papers more or less in the 
"Autocrat" vein; "Over the Teacups" is the latest. The Hst 
of his scientific writings is long and creditable. Holmes writes 
from external stimulus more than from interior inspiration : to the 
public rather than to himself; but he is always as good as we 
expect him to be, and often better. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 175 

Selections and Exercises. 

OLD IRONSIDES. 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout. 

And burst the cannon's roar ; — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood. 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below. 
No more shall feel the victor's tread. 

Or know the conquered knee ; — 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

O better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave ; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave ; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag. 

Set every threadbare sail. 
And give her to the god of storms, 

The lightning and the gale ! 

What was the occasion of this poem ? What effect did it have ? 

THE LAST LEAF. 

I saw him once before, 
As he passed by the door, 
And again 



176 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

The pavement stones resound, 
As he totters o'er the ground 
With his cane. 

They say that in his prime, 
Ere the pruning-knife of Time 

Cut him down, 
Not a better man was found 
By the Crier on his round 

Through the town. 

But now he walks the streets, 
And he looks at all he meets 

Sad and wan. 
And he shakes his feeble head, 
That it seems as if he said, 

" They are gone." 

The mossy marbles rest 
On the lips that he has prest 

In their bloom. 
And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a yeai 

On the tomb. 

My grandmamma has said — 
Poor old lady, she is dead 

Long ago — 
That he had a Roman nose. 
And his cheek was like a rose 

In the snow. 

But now his nose is thin. 
And it rests upon his chin 

Like a staff, 
And a crook is in his back, 
And a melancholy crack 

In his laugh. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 177 

I know it is a sin 
For me to sit and grin 

At him here ; 
But the old three-cornered hat,- 
And the breeches, and all that, 

Are so queer. 

And if I should live to be 
The last leaf upon the tree 

In the spring, 
Let them smile, as I do now, 
At the old forsaken bough 

Where I cling. 

What is the "Last Leaf"? What has become of his friends? 
What is the use of the reference to his "grandmamma"? What 
signs of old age does he bear? Does the poet think himself cul- 
pable for making sport of him ? 

THE COMET. 

The Comet ! He is on his way, 

And singing as he flies ; 
The whizzing planets shrink before 

The spectre of the skies ; 
Ah ! well may regal orbs burn blue, 

And satellites turn pale. 
Ten milhon cubic miles of head. 

Ten billion leagues of tail ! 

On, on by whistling spheres of light 

He flashes and he flames ; 
He turns not to the left nor right. 

He asks them not their names ; 
One spurn from his demoniac heel, — 

Away, away they fly. 
Where darkness might be bottled up 

And sold for "Tyrian dye." 



178 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

And what would happen to the land, 

And how would look the sea, 
If in the bearded devil's path 

Our earth should chance to be ? 
Full hot and high the sea would boil, 

Full red the forests gleam ; 
Methought I saw and heard it all 

In a dyspeptic dream ! 

i saw a tutor take his tube 

The Comet's course to spy ; 
I heard a scream, — the gathered rays 

Had stewed the tutor's eye ; 
I saw a fort, — the soldiers all 

Were armed with goggles green ; 
Pop cracked the guns ! whiz flew the balls ! 

Bang went the magazine ! 

I saw a poet dip a scroll 

Each moment in a tub, 
I read upon the warping back, 

"The Dream of Beelzebub " ; 
He could not see his verses burn. 

Although his brain was fried, 
And ever and anon he bent 

To wet them as they dried. 

I saw the scalding pitch roll down 

The crackhng, sweating pines. 
And streams of smoke, like water-spouts, 

Burst through the rumbling mines ; 
I asked the firemen why they made 

Such noise about the town ; 
They answered not, — but all the while 

The brakes went up and down. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 179 

I saw a roasting pullet sit 

Upon a baking egg ; 
I saw a cripple scorch his hand 

Extinguishing his leg ; 
I saw nine geese upon the wing 

Towards the frozen pole, 
And every mother's gosling fell 

Crisped to a crackhng coal. 

I saw the ox that browsed the grass 

Writhe in the blistering rays, 
The herbage in his shrinking jaws 

Was all a fiery blaze ; 
I saw huge fishes, boiled to rags. 

Bob through the bubbhng brine ; 
And thoughts of supper crossed my soul ; 

I had been rash at mine. 

Strange sights ! strange sounds ! O fearful dream ! 

Its memory haunts me still, 
The steaming sea, the crimson glare, 

That wreathed each wooded hill ; 
Stranger ! if through thy reeling brain 

Such midnight visions sweep, 
Spare, spare, O, spare thine evening meal, 

And sweet shall be thy sleep ! 

How big is it ? Describe its course. What is the disaster that 
occurs ? What effect does it have on the earth ? What was the 
cause of this lurid vision ? 

LEXINGTON. 

Slowly the mist o'er the meadow was creeping. 
Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun. 

When from his couch, while his children were sleeping, 
Rose the bold rebel and shouldered his gun. 



180 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Waving her golden veil 

Over the silent dale, 
Blithe looked the morning on cottage and spire ; 

Hushed was his parting sigh, 

While from his noble eye 
Flashed the last sparkle of liberty's fire. 

On the smooth green where the fresh leaf is springing, 

Calmly the first-born of glory have met ; 
Hark ! the death-volley around them is ringing ! 
Look ! with their life-blood the young grass is wet ! 

Faint is the feeble breath, 

Murmuring low in death, 
" Tell to our sons how their fathers have died " ; 

Nerveless the iron hand, 

Raised for its native land, 
Lies by the weapon that gleams at its side. 

Over the hillsides the wild knell is tolling, 

From their far hamlets the yeomanry come ; 
As through the storm-clouds the thunder-burst rolling. 
Circles the beat of the mustering drum. 

Fast on the soldier's path 

Darken the waves of wrath. 
Long have they gathered and loud shall they fall ; 

Red glares the musket's flash. 

Sharp rings the rifle's crash, 
Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall. 

Gayly the plume of the horseman was dancing, 

Never to shadow his cold brow again ; 
Proudly at morning the war-steed was prancing. 
Reeking and panting he droops on the rein ; 
Pale is the lip of scorn. 
Voiceless the trumpet horn. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 181 

Torn is the silken- fringed red cross on high ; 

Many a belted breast 

Low on the turf shall rest, 
Ere the dark hunters the herd have passed by. 

Snow-girdled crags where the hoarse wind is raving, 

Rocks where the weary floods murmur and wail, 
Wilds where the fern by the furrow is waving, 
Reeled with the echoes that rode on the gale ; 

Far as the tempest thrills 

Over the darkened hills. 
Far as the sunshine streams over the plain, 

Roused by the tyrant band, 

Woke all the mighty land. 
Girded for battle, from mountain to main. 

Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying ! 

Shroudless and tombless they sunk to their rest, — 
While o'er their ashes the starry folds flying 

Wraps the proud eagle they roused from his nest. 

Borne on her Northern pine. 

Long o'er the foaming brine 
Spread her broad banner to storm and to sun ; 

Heaven keep her ever free. 

Wide as o'er land and sea 
Floats the fair emblem her heroes have won ! 

Under what circumstances does the rebel shoulder his gun? 
What was his fate? What was the effect of his fate? How do 
these heroes take their rest? For what does the poet ask? 

THE HOT SEASON. 

The folks, that on the first of May 

Wore winter coats and hose, 
Began to say, the first of June, 

" Good Lord ! how hot it grows ! " 



182 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

At last two Fahrenheits blew up, 
And killed two children small, 

And one barometer shot dead 
A tutor with its ball ! 

Now all day long the locusts sang 

Among the leafless trees ; 
Three new hotels warped inside out, 

The pumps could only wheeze ; 
And ripe old wine, that twenty years 

Had cobwebbed o'er in vain, 
Came spouting through the rotten corks 

Like Joly's best Champagne ! 

The Worcester locomotives did 

Their trip in half an hour ; 
The Lowell cars ran forty miles 

Before they checked the power ; 
Roll brimstone soon became a drug, 

And loco-focos fell ; 
All asked for ice, but everywhere 

Saltpetre was to sell. 

Plump men of mornings ordered tights. 

But, ere the scorching noons. 
Their candle-moulds had grown as loose 

As Cossack pantaloons ! 
The dogs ran mad, — men could not try 

If water they would choose ; 

A horse fell dead, — he only left 

Four red-hot, rusty shoes ! 

But soon the people could not bear 
The slightest hint of fire ; 

Allusions to caloric drew 
A flood of savage ire ; 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 183 

The leaves on heat were all torn out 

From every book at school, 
And many blackguards kicked and caned 

Because they said, '' Keep cool ! " 

The gas-light companies were mobbed, 

The bakers all were shot, 
The penny press began to talk 

Of lynching Doctor Nott ; 
And all about the warehouse steps 

Were angry men in droves. 
Crashing and splintering through the doors 

To smash the patent stoves ! 

. The aboHtion men and maids 

Were tanned to such a hue, 
You scarce could tell them from their friends, 

Unless their eyes were blue ; 
And, when I left, society 

Had burst its ancient guards. 
And Bratde Street and Temple Place 

Were interchanging cards ! 

Note each point in this hvely extravagance and determine the 
exaggeration. 

General. — How many of the poems were written for pubHc 
occasions ? What were some of the occasions ? What narrative 
poems do you find ? What poems upon patriotic themes ? What 
poem do you consider the most humorous ? Analyze its humor. 
Compare the poems upon slavery with those of Whittier and 
Lowell upon the same subject. What Yankee traits do you find? 
What national traits? Do you find metrical variety? Metrical 
skill? 

James Russell Lowell (1819-1891). Cambridge was Lowell's 
birthplace : he graduated from Harvard in the class of 't,^, and 
two years afterwards was admitted to the bar. But literature was 



184 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

his chosen calling. His early poems were published in 1841 ; a 
magazine, "The Pioneer," founded by him in 1843, lived through 
three numbers. He took the anti-slavery side in politics the 
following year, and during four years thereafter worked in both 
verse and prose, with results not now important. But in 1848 he 
published the three poems which gave him his reputation, and 

which are in some respects not inferior to anything 
Three early ^^^ j^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^ r^^ ^^^^ a ^j^g Vision of Sir 
poems. ^ 

Launfal," "The P'able for Critics " and "The Biglow 

Papers," — opening, respectively, the fields of romantic and 
religious sentiment, of literary criticism and of pohtical satire. 

He visited Europe in 1851 and in 1855, returning to fill the 
chair of Modern Languages at Harvard. He was first editor of 
"The Atlantic Monthly," in 1857. In 1863, began his connection 
with "The North American Review," lasting ten years. The 
essays on literature and life that he contributed to this periodical 
were published in three volumes — " Fireside Travels," 
ductionr' " Among my Books," and " My Study Windows." In 
1877, he was appointed minister to Spain, and was 
transferred, in 1880, to the Court of St. James. "Democracy 
and Other Essays " comprise addresses delivered during the 
years of his official duties. During the Civil War he pubhshed 
another series of " Biglow Papers," and at its close, in 1865, 
recited "The Commemoration Ode," his loftiest and most beauti- 
ful poem. " Under the Willows " and " The Cathedral " appeared 
in 1869, and "Memorial Poems" in 1876. 

Lowell's mind is of masculine fibre, clear in perception and 
strong in grasp. His nature has a vein of coarseness, which ap- 
pears occasionally in his writings, but which, ordinarily, only serves 
to give character and flavor to his culture. The strong, cour- 
ageous, explicit temperament of the man shows 

Individ- throudi all he has written : in its least favorable 

uality. ^ 

manifestations it gives an impression of self-con- 
sciousness ; at its best, it imparts individuality, independence, and 
life. A certain impatience of disposition sometimes makes him 
chargeable with haste and carelessness ; but it is also connect;id 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 185 

with the fire and force and sturdy ardor that become contagious 
in his loftier work. 

He is reserved, and often consciously self-restrained ; but he 
has a hearty, humorous sympathy with human nature, and can 
give vigorous and sagacious interpretations of even its ruder and 
homelier traits. A measure of intuitive insight, combined with 
shrewd appreciation, is shown in the careless jingles of his " Fable 
for Critics." His sense of beauty, in nature and in art, is keen 
and ingrained, and has been developed by study. It gives grace 
to both his poetry and his prose ; while his graver thoughts about 
hfe impart a spirituality of view to his descriptions and interpreta- 
tions. He is never abstract and metaphysical, like Emerson, but 
he in a measure accepts Emerson's standpoint. He 
sees life whole, and with a moderate, judicious op- ofl!!^!y 
timism. He more enjoys the concrete than the spirit- 
ual, if he must choose between the two : and in this he is wise, 
because his foot and hand are not hght enough for the pure 
.spiritual region, and he is never more perfunctory than when 
he pays a visit to it. The incarnate spirit he welcomes, because 
he sees that it adds beauty and scope to the subject. But there 
is a solid basis of human earth in him ; and wherever his head 
may be, his feet are always among the terrestrial roots of things. 

There is imagination in Lowell : it is not of the sublime order, 
but it is enough to bestow interest and splendor upon his work. 
Like his sense of beauty, it has been cultivated, and, like all cul- 
tivated things, it occasionally lacks spontaneity. His familiarity 
with the best literature shows him where the imagina- 
tive touch is required ; and he will put on that touch, ^^^^' 
whether it comes from his heart or from his head. 
Indeed, the threads of Lowell's reading appear in the web of all 
that he has written ; he is only too rich in hterary allusions 
and illustrations : he can see nothing in nature, or in his own 
mind, that does not remind him of something in a book. Origi- 
nal he is not : but the sum of civilized experience and learning 
is in his words, and gives them point and impetus. But he has 
assimilated his studies ; they have become organic in his being ; 



186 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

they are in the tones of his voice and the look of his eyes. 
He resists their mastery, and fairly masters them — which he 
could not have done had his temperament and physical nature 
been less powerful. His lusty sensuous impulses, healthy and 
catholic, avail, when he gives them rein, to counterbalance his 
culture : he can speak in the voice of mankind, as well as of 
scholars. And in the long run, it will be to the natural and not 
to the acquired voice that the world will more willingly hsten. 

His poems, and often his prose, have single lines or passages 
which are striking and memorable ; a fact indicative of talent 
rather than of inspiration, for the high level is never uniform in 
anything that he has written. He soars aloft, but drops again, 

and his average flight is not sublime. His position 
world ^ ^ ^ never has the loneliness or detachment of genius ; he 

is careful not to lose touch with the cultivated human 

mind : he wishes to appear allied with the results of culture, and 

not solitary. The awful abyss of unrelated space, in which spirits 

like Milton, Dante, and Coleridge delighted to lose themselves, 

has few attractions for him. Wherever he goes, he carries 

with him the air and diction of a man of the world : we feel 

that the library and the drawing-room are not far off, even when 

he is in his most rural or exalted vein. He is strong, but not 

quite strong enough to abrogate his human strength, and yield 

himself to the influx of the Divine. 

The wide success of his " Biglow Papers " gave him, for many 

years, the not altogether enviable reputation of an American 

humorist. No such faithful and humorous presen- 
The • • Big- ^ 

low Papers" tation of Yankee traits and dialect has elsewhere 

and other ^gen made: and the sustained viffor with which 
poems. 

Hosea's character is maintained, is enough, even 

without the pungency of the accompanying satire, to establish a 

reputation. It was a fortunate conception, because no such thing 

had been done before, nor is ever likely to be attempted again : 

it is as unique as Longfellow's " Hiawatha," though so different 

from it in other respects. But its grotesqueness — its utter lack of 

beauty — makes one half regret its notoriety: for a great deal o* 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 187 

what is best and most charming in Lowell has no representation 
in these verses ; yet it is with them, more than with any of his 
loftier poems, that he is likely to be identified. The '' Legend of 
Brittany" and the "Vision of Sir Launfal " are lovely in senti- 
ment, description and workmanship ; but they are not so separate 
in conception as to be called original. The " Harvard Commem- 
oration Ode " is strong, rich and massive, sparkling with gems of 
thought, and rising high in pinnacles of poetic beauty ; but it can 
hardly be regarded as characteristic of Lowell, in the sense that 
" Thanatopsis " is characteristic of Bryant, or "The Psalm of 
Life," of Longfellow; or "The Haunted Palace," of Poe. It is 
constructed, it is not born. In fact, beautiful and edifying though 
much of Lowell's poetry is, he is a poet by choice and training 
rather than inevitably. He can not only find expression in other 
ways, but it is a question whether, were we obliged to choose 
between losing his poetry, or his prose, we might not decide to 
forego the former rather than the latter. 

Certainly, his critical writings have a great and enduring value. 
They are at once subtle and masculine, independent and acute. 
He writes from a profound knowledge of the best literary product 

of the world, and from ripe and sane meditation 

,, TT- ^- 1 ^ i. • -i. His critical 

thereupon. His poetical temperament gives vivacity ^n^uigs. 

and a creative touch to his conclusions. His liter- 
ary experience enables him to detect a counterfeit at a glance, 
and to perceive the emptiness underlying formulas and conven- 
tionalities. And so radically an American is he, that all the 
erudition of Europe, and of antiquity, have not availed to corrupt 
him one jot : nay, his steadfast native quality gives his judgments 
of alien things a worth and significance that would otherwise 
be lacking in them. He has studied the past, but he looks 
towards the future. He believes that these United States have 
made successful trial of the most important of national experi- 
ments. And so far as love of freedom, cathohcity of interests, 
and sagacious optimism, conveyed in cultivated literary forms, 
can entitle a writer to renown, that renown belongs to Lowell. 
During the latter years of his life, in the fullness of his well-earned 
fame, he was our most distinguished man-of-letters. 



188 AMERICAN LITERA TURE. 

Selections and Exercises. 
ODE. 

READ AT THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FIGHT AT CONCORD 

BRIDGE. 

19TH April, 1875. 

I. 

Who cometh over the hills, 
Her garments with morning sweet, 
The dance of a thousand rills 
Making music before her feet ? 
Her presence freshens the air ; 
Sunshine steals light from her face ; 
The leaden footstep of Care 
Leaps to the tune of her pace, 
Fairness of all that is fair, 
Grace at the heart of all grace, 
Sweetener of hut and of hall, 
Bringer of life out of naught. 
Freedom, O, fairest of all 
The daughters of Time and Thought ! 

II. 

She cometh, cometh to-day : 
Hark ! hear ye not her tread. 
Sending a thrill through your clay, 
Under the sod there, ye dead. 
Her nurslings and champions? 
Do ye not hear, as she comes. 
The bay of the deep-mouthed guns. 
The gathering buzz of the drums ? 
The bells that called ye to prayer, 
How wildly they clamor on her. 
Crying, " She cometh ! prepare 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 189 

Her to praise and her to honor, 
That a hundred years ago 
Scattered here in blood and tears 
Potent seeds wherefrom should grow 
Gladness for a hundred years ! " 



Tell me, young men, have ye seen, 

Creature of diviner mien 

For true hearts to long and cry for, 

Manly hearts to live and die for? 

What hath she that others want ? 

Brows that all endearments haunt, 

Eyes that make it sweet to dare, 

Smiles that glad untimely death, 

Looks that fortify despair, 

Tones more brave than trumpet's breath ; 

Tell me, maidens, have ye known 

Household charm more sweetly rare, 

Grace of woman ampler blown. 

Modesty more debonair, 

Younger heart with wit full grown? 

O for an hour of my prime, 

The pulse of my hotter years. 

That I might praise her in rhyme 

Would tingle your eyelids to tears, 

Our sweetness, our strength, and our star, 

Our hope, our joy, and our trust, 

Who hfted us out of the dust, 

And made us whatever we are ! 

IV. 

Whiter than moonshine upon snow 
Her raiment is, but round the hem 
Crimson stained ; and, as to and fro 
Her sandals flash, we see on them. 



190 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

And on her instep veined with blue, 

Flecks of crimson, on those fair feet, 

High-arched, Diana-like, and fleet. 

Fit for no grosser stain than dew : 

O, call them rather chrisms than stains, 

Sacred and from heroic veins ! 

For, in the glory-guarded pass. 

Her haughty and far-shining head 

She bowed to shrive Leonidas 

With his imperishable dead ; 

Her, too, Morgarten saw, 

Where the Swiss Hon fleshed his icy paw ; 

She followed Cromwell's quenchless star 

Where the grim Puritan tread 

Shook Marston, Naseby, and Dunbar : 

Yea, on her feet are dearer dyes 

Yet fresh, nor looked on with untearful eyes. 



Our fathers found her in the woods 

Where Nature meditates and broods, 

The seeds of unexampled things 

Which Time to consummation brings 

Through life and death and man's unstable moods ; 

They met her here, not recognized, 

A sylvan huntress clothed in furs. 

To whose chaste wants her bow sufficed. 

Nor dreamed what destinies were hers : 

She taught them bee-like to create 

Their simpler forms of Church and State j 

She taught them to endue 

The past with other functions than it knew. 

And turn in channels strange the uncertain stream of Fate ; 

Better than all, she fenced them in their need 

With iron-handed Duty's sternest creed, 

'Gainst Self's lean wolf that ravens word and deed. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 191 

VI. 

Why cometh she hither to-day 

To this low village of the plain 

Far from the Present's loud highway, 

From Trade's cool heart and seething brain? 

Why cometh she ? She was not far away. 

Since the soul touched it, not in vain, 

With pathos of immortal gain, 

'Tis here her fondest memories stay. 

She loves yon pine-bemurmured ridge 

Where now our broad-browed poet sleeps, 

Dear to both Englands ; near him he 

Who wore the ring of Canace ; 

But most her heart to rapture leaps 

Where stood that era-parting bridge, 

O'er which, with footfall still as dew. 

The Old Time passed into the New ; 

Where, as your stealthy river creeps. 

He whispers to his Hstening weeds 

Tales of sublimest homespun deeds. 

Here English law and Enghsh thought 

'Gainst the self-will of England fought ; 

And here were men (coequal with their fate). 

Who did great things, unconscious they were great. 

They dreamed not what a die was cast 

With that first answering shot ; what then ? 

There was their duty ; they were men 

Schooled the soul's inward gospel to obey, 

Though leading to the hon's den. 

They felt the habit-hallowed world give way 

Beneath their lives, and on went they. 

Unhappy who was last. 

When Buttrick gave the word, 

That awful idol of the unchallenged Past, 

Strong in their love, and in their lineage strong. 

Fell crashing : if they heard it not. 



192 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Yet the earth heard, 

Nor ever hath forgot, 

As on from startled throne to throne, 

Where Superstition sate or conscious Wrong, 

A shudder ran of some dread birth unknown. 

Thrice venerable spot ! 

River more fateful than the Rubicon ! 

O'er those red planks, to snatch her diadem, 

Man's Hope, star-girdled, sprang with them. 

And over ways untried the feet of Doom strode on. 

VII. 

Think you these felt no charms 

In their gray homesteads and embowered farms ? 

In household faces waiting at the door 

Their evening step should lighten up no more ? 

In fields their boyish feet had known? 

In trees their fathers' hands had set, 

And which with them had grown. 

Widening each year their leafy coronet ? 

Felt they no pang of passionate regret 

For those unsolid goods that seem so much our own? 

These things are dear to every man that lives. 

And life prized more for what it lends than gives. 

Yea, many a tie, by iteration sweet. 

Strove to detain their fatal feet ; 

And yet the enduring half they chose, 

Whose choice decides a man life's slave or king, 

The invisible things of God before the seen and known 

Therefore their memory inspiration blows 

With echoes gathering on from zone to zone ; 

For manhood is the one immortal thing 

Beneath Time's changeful sky. 

And, where it lightened once, from age to age. 

Men come to learn, in grateful pilgrimage, 

That length of days is knowing when to die. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 193 



What marvellous change of things and men ! 
She, a world-wandering orphan then, 
So mighty now ! Those are her streams 
That whirl the myriad, myriad wheels 
Of all that does, and all that dreams. 
Of all that thinks, and all that feels. 
Through spaces stretched from sea to sea ; 
By idle tongues and busy brains, 
By who doth riglit, and who refrains, 
Hers are our losses and our gains ; 
Our maker and our victim she. 



Maiden half mortal, half divine, 

We triumphed in thy coming ; to the brinks 

Our hearts were filled with pride's tumultuous wine ; 

Better to-day who rather feels than thinks. 

Yet will some graver thoughts intrude. 

And cares of sterner mood ; 

They won thee : who shall keep thee ? From the deeps 

Where discrowned empires o'er their ruins brood. 

And many a thwarted hope wrings its weak hands and weeps, 

I hear the voice as of a mighty wind 

From all heaven's caverns rushing unconfined, 

" I, Freedom, dwell with Knowledge : I abide 

With men whom dust of faction cannot blind 

To the slow tracings of the Eternal Mind ; 

With men by culture trained and fortified, 

Who bitter duty to sweet lusts prefer. 

Fearless to counsel and obey. 

Conscience my sceptre is, and law my sword, 

Not to be drawn in passion or in play, 

But terrible to punish and deter ; 

Implacable as God's word, 

Like it, a shepherd's crook to them that blindly err. 



194 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Your firm-pulsed sires, my martyrs and my saints, 

Shoots of that only race whose patient sense 

Hath known to mingle flux with permanence, 

Rated my chaste denials and restraints 

Above the moment's dear-paid paradise : 

Beware lest, shifting with Time's gradual creep, 

The light that guided shine into your eyes. 

The envious Powers of ill nor wink nor sleep : 

Be therefore timely wise, 

Nor laugh when this one steals, and that one lies. 

As if your luck could cheat those sleepless spies, 

Till the deaf Fury comes your house to sweep ! " 

I hear the voice, and unaffrighted bow ; 

Ye shall not be prophetic now, 

Heralds of ill, that darkening fly 

Between my vision and the rainbowed sky. 

Or on the left your hoarse forebodings croak 

From many a blasted bough 

On Yggdrasil's storm-sinewed oak, 

That once was green, Hope of the West, as thou : 

Yet pardon if I tremble while I boast ; 

For I have loved as those who pardon most. 



Away, ungrateful doubt, away ! 
At least she is our own to-day. 
Break into rapture, my song, 
Verses, leap forth in the sun, 
Bearing the joyance along 
Like a train of fire as ye run ! 
Pause not for choosing of words. 
Let them but blossom and sing 
BHthe as the orchards and birds 
With the new coming of spring ! 
Dance in your jollity, bells ; 
Shout, cannon ; cease not, ye drums \ 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 195 

Answer, ye hillside and dells ; 

Bow, all ye people ! She comes, 

Radiant, calm- fronted, as when 

She hallowed that April day. 

Stay with us ! Yes, thou shalt stay, 

Softener and strengthener of men, 

Freedom, not won by the vain. 

Not to be courted in play, 

Not to be kept without pain. 

Stay with us ! Yes, thou wilt stay. 

Handmaid and mistress of all, 

Kindlier of deed and of thought. 

Thou that to hut and to hall 

Equal deliverance brought ! 

Souls of her martyrs, draw near. 

Touch our dull lips with your fire. 

That we may praise without fear 

Her our delight, our desire. 

Our faith's inextinguishable star. 

Our hope, our remembrance, our trust, 

Our present, our past, our to be, 

Who will mingle her life with our dust 

And make us deserve to be free ! 

I. What is personified? What is said of her? What is the 
measure? Is it musical? II. To whom is this part addressed? 
What was the occasion of a hundred years ago? Is the measure 
the same as in the first part? As well handled? III. To whom 
is this part addressed? What equalities of beauty does she pos- 
sess for each ? What does the poet wish himself able to do ? Is 
the measure the same ? Is the part as musical as the preceding 
ones? IV. What is her raiment? What is the significance of 
the stains? Explain the historical allusions. Is the measure the 
same? V. Where was she found ? Explain the part in your own 
language. What is the measure? VI. Answer the first question 
in the part. Explain the history this part celebrates. Who were 



196 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the men referred to, and what their service? Study the measure. 
VII. What held the patriots to earth? Describe the scene he 
pictures here. Notice the measure. VIII. What is the thought 
of this short part? What is the measure? Why is the part 
necessary? IX. With whom does Freedom dwell? What advice 
does the poet give? Notice the measure. X. What words are 
to be used in this part? What is his belief in our future? Is the 
me*asure of this part the same as that of any other part? Which 
of the parts do you like best ? W^hy ? Recapitulate the main 
points of the Ode. 

TO H. W. L., 

ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 27TH FEBRUARY, 1 867. 

I need not praise the sweetness of his song, 

Where limpid verse to limpid verse succeeds 
Smooth as our Charles, when, fearing lest he wrong 
The new moon's mirrored skiff, he slides along, 
Full without noise, and whispers in his reeds. 

With loving breath of all the winds his name 

Is blown about the world, but to his friends 
A sweeter secret hides behind his fame. 
And Love steals shyly through the loud acclaim 
To murmur a God bless you ! and there ends. 

As I muse backward up the checkered years 
Wherein so much was given, so much was lost, 

Blessings of both kinds, such as cheapen tears, — 

But hush ! this is not for profaner ears ; 

Let them drink molten pearls nor dream the cost. 

Some suck up poison from a sorrow's core. 

As naught but nightshade grew upon earth's ground ; 
Love turned all his to heart's-ease, and the more 
Fate tried his bastions, she but forced a door 
Leading to sweeter manhood and more sound. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRETHARTE. 197 

Even as a wind-waved fountain's swaying shade 
Seems of mixed race, a gray wraith shot with sun, 

So through his trial faith translucent rayed 

Till darkness, half disnatured so, betrayed 
A heart of sunshine that would fain o'errun. 

Surely if skill in song the shears may stay 

And of its purpose cheat the charmed abyss. 
If our poor life be lengthened by a lay. 
He shall not go, although his presence may. 
And the next age in praise shall double this. 

Long days be his, and each as lusty-sweet 

As gracious natures find his song to be ; 
May Age steal on with softly-cadenced feet 
Falling in music, as for him were meet 

Whose choicest verse is harsher-toned than he ! 

What are the points mentioned for praise? Is the best of 
Longfellow in his verse? Do you agree with Lowell as to the 
good points of Longfellow ? 

THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. 

[No. 30 of the " Riverside Literature Series " contains this and other poems.] 

Study the different measures. What is the meaning of the first 
stanza? Of the second? Of the third? What is it we buy? 
What is given away? Give the description of June in your 
own language. Find spring poetry in other poets and com- 
pare with this. What connection has the lusty June with Sir 
Launfal? I. How does Sir Launfal prepare for the quest? What 
is his quest? Under what conditions will he pursue his quest? 
What is the Holy Grail? What is mail? What is the simile in 
which the casde is used ? Describe the castle. What is a draw- 
bridge ? How did Sir Launfal appear as he rode away ? Where 
was there mourning? What was Sir Launfal's treatment of the 



198 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

leper? What did the leper say? Prelude to part second. Stud} 
this description of winter. In what condition was Sir Launfal 
now? What is a yule-log? What is a seneschal? II. What is 
the kind of mourning now ? What badge did he wear ? What is 
described in the third stanza? How did Sir Launfal grow familiar 
with such scenes? What appeared to him as he mused? Had 
he seen it before? How had he treated it? How did he treat 
it now? Who was the leper? W^hat does he say to Sir Launfal? 
Had Sir Launfal really gone through these experiences? What 
effect did the vision have on him ? 

GeneraL — What do you say of Lowell as an artist? Of the 
criticism in "A Fable for Critics"? Has he narrative poems? 
What are his odes? Has he lyrics of love? War? Patriotism? 
Does Lowell's love of nature seem genuine? Is he strong in 
description? In metaphysics? Is he eloquent? Impassioned? 
Optimistic? Mascuhne? Conventional? Original? Imagina- 
tive? Patriotic? Does his poetry spring from the head? The 
heart ? Which in greater degree ? Is he the most skilled of our 
artists? The most musical? In what qualities is he superlative? 

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892), the son of a Quaker 

farmer, was born near Haverhill, Massachusetts, on the 17th of 

December. He loved books, but his schooling was very Hmited. 

Poetic genius, however, Whittier had, and poetic 

Early anflu- genius can flourish, at need, even on the bare rocks of 
ences. ° 

New. England. Pure, simple and peaceful was the 

social atmosphere in which he grew up ; and a copy of Burns's 
poems, which early fell into his possession, revealed to him his 
own latent powers, and served, in a measure, as his poetic model. 
Some of his first verses were published by William Lloyd Garri- 
son in the Newburyport " Free Press," and were the cause of 
Garrison's visiting the Whittier homestead, where he found the 
young author, a barefooted boy, with his hand on the plough-tail. 
The boy and the man discovered bonds of mutual sympathy : 
more poems were the result, and, for a few months, Whittier was 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 199 

employed in Boston to write for the " American Manufacturer." 
A year or two later, in 1830, he edited the "Haver- connection 
hill Gazette," and contributed both prose and poetry withAboii- 
to contemporary periodicals; and in 1831, he as- *°^' 
sumed control of the " New England Weekly Review," to which, 
in the course of eighteen months, he contributed many poems 
and sketches. At the close of this year his pieces were pub- 
lished in a volume, called " New England Legends in Prose 
and Verse." He now gave up editing for the nonce, and went 
home, where he continued his poetical activity, and gave much 
attention, under Garrison's influence, to the question of negro 
slavery. Pamphlets and letters upon this subject appeared over 
his signature during several years thereafter, and he attended 
meetings, mingled with agitators, and signed declarations. The 
effect of all this upon his poetry was visible enough ; he gained 
the title of Laureate of the Abolition Party; but it must be 
admitted that he often sacrificed art to opinion. His anti- slavery 
verses were finally collected in a volume under the title of " Voices 
of Freedom, from 1833 to 1848." 

From this period to the outbreak of the war his literary and 
political labor was continuous. Besides his Abolitionist produc- 
tions, he wrote such poems as " Mogg Megone," ''The Bridal of 
Pennacook " and " Flud Ireson " ; he edited for twelve 
years the " National Era," and took a hand in the build- 
ing of the " Atlantic Monthly." His poems written during the war 
appeared afterwards in a volume called " In War Time." When the 
great conflict was over, he turned with relief from the passions and 
struggles of the past, and devoted himself to the peaceful rural 
life which was really congenial to him. " Snow-Bound " (1866), 
"The Tent on the Beach" (1867), "Among the Hills" (1868) 
and "Hazel Blossoms" (1875) indicate the current of his poetic 
thought. 

The bitter sectional feeHngs which prompted a part of Whit- 
tier's verse, and the passionate conviction which guided his pen, 
though they may have helped the cause, injured the artist, and 
hindered his artistic development. Uneducated, narrow and 



200 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

prejudiced, his headlong zeal was in harmony with those fiery 
times, when men wished to act rather than to reflect. 
Poetr *°^^*^°^ To Whittier, the Southern slaveholders were opponents 
of civilization, and every slave was the embodiment of 
an outrage done to human nature. His epithets were severe, and 
his denunciations stern. The epoch having passed, the verse of 
which it was the occasion must cease to be judged by other than 
literary standards ; and according to these standards, its value is, 
for the most part, comparatively small. 

But when his true genius is in the ascendant, Whittier is a sim- 
ple, charming, original poet. There is nothing studied or labored 
in his productions : he seems to write without effort, from the 
depths of a tranquil, reverent, beauty-loving spirit. 
Snlus^^ His verse reflects the thoughts, habits, and aspira- 

tions of a plain, strong, wholesome race, a race 
capable of heroism and of moral grandeur. He loved the 
hills, valleys, and coast of New England ; he loved its legends 
and its history, and he has a happy power of graphically pic- 
turing the essence of their charm. In a singular manner he 
touched realism with imagination, and made it art ; with intui- 
tive insight he selected his materials, and combined them in forms 
of seemingly spontaneous harmony. His touch, uniformly light 
and graceful, is sometimes too careless : but his deficient educa- 
tion, though it hmits his subjects, and deprives him of Lowell's 
power of broad allusion, adds a distinct loveliness to his work. 
He is characteristically and almost exclusively American in his 
theme : and he reaches the heart of the people as a poet of higher 
culture might fail to do. Sincerity, charity, heroism, and the spirit 
of human brotherhood breathe through his best verse : he strength- 
ens us for our daily trials, and defines and elevates our pleasures. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 201 

Selections and Exercises. 
SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE. 

Of all the rides since the birth of time, 

Told in story or sung in rhyme, — 

On Apuleius's Golden Ass, 

Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass, 

Witch astride of a human back, 

Islam's prophet on Al-Borak, — 

The strangest ride that ever was sped 

Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead ! 
Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, 
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
By the women of Marblehead ! 

Body of turkey, head of owl. 

Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl, 

Feathered and ruffled in every part, 

Skipper Ireson stood in the cart. 

Scores of women, old and young. 

Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue. 

Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane. 

Shouting and singing the shrill refrain : 

" Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, ' 
Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
By the women o' Morble'ead ! " 

Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips, 

Girls in bloom of cheek and lips. 

Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chase 

Bacchus round some antique vase, 

Brief of skirt, with ankles bare. 

Loose of kerchief and loose of hair, 

With conch-shells blowing and fish-horns' twang, 

Over and over the Maenads sang : 



202 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

" Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 
Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
By the women o' Morble'ead ! " 

Small pity for him : — He sailed away 
From a leaking ship, in Chaleur Bay, — 
Sailed away from a sinking wreck. 
With his own town's-people on her deck ! 
'' Lay by ! lay by ! " they called to him. 
Back he answered, " Sink or swim ! 
Brag of your catch of fish again ! " 
And off he sailed through the fog and rain ! 
Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart. 
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
By the women of Marblehead ! 

Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur 
That wreck shall He forevermore. 
Mother and sister, wife and maid, 
Looked from the rocks of Marblehead 
Over the moaning and rainy sea, — 
Looked for the coming that might not be ! 
What did the winds and the sea-birds say 
Of the cruel captain who sailed away? — 
Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart. 
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
By the women of Marblehead ! 

Through the street, on either side, 
Up flew windows, doors swung wide ; 
Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray. 
Treble lent the fish-horns' bray. 
Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound, 
Hulks of old sailors run aground. 
Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane. 
And cracked with curses the hoarse refrain : 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 203 

" Here's Find Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 
Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
By the women of Morble'ead ! " 

Sweetly along the Salem road 

Bloom of orchard and lilac showed. 

Little the wicked skipper knew 

Of the fields so green and the sky so blue. 

Riding there in his sorry trim, 

Like an Indian idol glum and grim, 

Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear 

Of voices shouting, far and near : 

" Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 
Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt 
By the women o' Morble'ead ! " 

" Hear me, neighbors ! " at last he cried, — 

" What to me is this noisy ride ? 

What is the shame that clothes the skin 

To the nameless horror that lives within ? 

Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck. 

And hear a cry from a reeling deck ! 

Hate me and curse me, — I only dread 

The hand of God and the face of the dead ! " 
Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart. 
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
By the women of Marblehead ! 

Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea 

Said, " God has touched him ! — why should we ? " 

Said an old wife mourning her only son, 

" Cut the rogue's tether and let him run ! " 

So with soft relentings and rude excuse, 

Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose, 

And gave him a cloak to hide him in. 

And left him alone with his shame and sin. 



204 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, 
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart 
By the women of Marblehead ! 

Look up the references to historic or traditional rides and describe 
them. What kind of a figure had been made of the skipper? 
Who were his judges? From the poet's description of them would 
you think the culprit likely to receive impartial judgment? For 
what deed was the skipper punished ? Was the skipper mortified 
at his situation ? What emotion really controlled him at the time ? 
Was he deeper or shallower, spiritually, than his judges ? Can you 
give a quotation from the Bible corresponding to the final reflec- 
tion of these judges ? 

SNOW-BOUND. 

[This poem can be had for 15 cents in No. 4 of the " Riverside Literature 
Series."] 

How is the snow-storm foretold? What was the appearance of 
the sun ? Does " a hard, dull bitterness of cold " usually foretell an 
immediate snow-storm in your latitude ? What preparations were 
made for the night? What resemblances do you find between 
the concluding lines of the second stanza descriptive of the fall 
of the snow and the lines quoted from Emerson at the beginning 
of the poem? What differences? Which is more accurate? 
Which is more vigorous? Which is more detailed? Find other 
descriptions of snow-storms and compare them. Compare all of 
them with the real thing the first opportunity. How long did the 
snow fall ? Have you ever known it to fall so long and heavily ? 
Do you recognize the description of the appearance of the world 
when it ceased, as accurate ? How did the day pass ? Describe 
the preparations for the night. The scene when the members of 
the family gathered around the fire. Who were the members? 
Of what did each one talk? Most of the talkers recounted remi- 
niscences; which one did not? How does he represent a bright 
hope for the future? With what reading matter was the house- 
hold supplied ? What did the country newspaper contain ? Have 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 205 

you ever been snow-bound in a country home? Did you enjoy it? 
Would you enjoy it? Why? Would you enjoy it more now since 
reading this poem? Do you think the poet enjoyed the expe- 
rience or the retrospect more? Why? Do you know of an 
account of a snow-storm as complete as this? Are idyls com- 
monly snow-scenes? 

Characterize fully the kind of life represented here. Take 
paper and pencil ; begin with the most salient characteristics ; 
amplify and elaborate. Do this work thoroughly and take to- 
morrow's recitation hour for comparing your papers if your teacher 
can allow you the time. 

General. — Had Whittier a liberal education? Was his expe- 
rience a broad one? Was he broad and liberal in his views? 
What grounds do you have for the opinion you have expressed? 
What other American poets have used Indian legends ? Can you 
name an American poet who has dealt with them more elaborately 
and successfully? How does he excel Whittier? Read "Voices 
of Freedom," " In War Time " and '' National Lyrics." In what 
other poets do you find poems upon slavery ? Do any of them 
show an equal volume on this subject? Do any of them show so 
much zeal ? Passion ? Skill ? Extravagance ? Does he warn or 
condemn? Argue or denounce? Was he a poet or a seer? The 
poet often sacrificed artistic finish to the passion and urgency of 
the occasion ; do you think it better or worse for him to have 
done so? Why? 

Do you find an affection for New England scenery and life in 
his poetry? What poems? Do you think him to be a pious 
man? Why? Read " My Psalm." Put in your own words the 
ideas it expresses. Do his Quaker sympathies show? From what 
region does he derive the materials for his ballads ? 

Do you find any lyrics of love? Of patriotism? Classify his 
lyrics by the subjects that inspire them. 

Is his poetry profound? Metaphysical? Reflective? Argu- 
mentative? Serene? Turbulent? Indifferent? Impassioned? 
Eloquent? Touching? Impulsive? Musical? Graceful? Earn- 



206 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

est? Varied? Impressive? Soothing? Provincial? Joyous? 
Depressing? Hopeful? In each case give the grounds of your 
decision. 

Edwin Percy Whipple (i8 19-1886) was born in Boston, and 
was the first American writer to devote himself exclusively to criti- 
cism. For this, if for no other reason, he would deserve honora- 
ble mention, since his work proved that this country had already 
advanced far enough in culture and character to admit of search- 
ing and sympathetic native study. But Whipple was not only 
a critic ; he was also a critic of first-rate ability. His hterary judg- 
Our first ments were as just as they were acute, and have 
professional been confirmed by the verdict of later years. His 
critic. mind was both penetrating and comprehensive ; he 

took the philosophical view, and showed the sources and rela- 
tions of existing conditions. The range of his reading was 
extensive and its subjects well-chosen ; he was familiar with 
the field of European literature, as well as with American : 
only Lowell rivalled him in this respect, and he gave himself, 
as Lowell did not, wholly to the critical function. He may 
fairly be classed with such men as Matthew Arnold in England, 
and Taine in France ; for though his scope was less preten- 
tious than theirs, the actual value of his achievements will probably 
not be found inferior. His gift of interpretation and expression 
was commensurate with his insight ; so that his essays are not 
merely instructive to students, but delightful to the general reader. 
Humor he possesses in abundance ; eloquence ; and the faculty of 
giving charm and lucidity to subjects apparently dry and intricate. 
His merits have been acknowledged by competent foreign judges, 
and many an English scholar's hbrary contains his books. No 
one who wishes to acquire a vivid and trustworthy conception of 
eminent American books and men, and of the conditions of recent 
American existence, can do better than to consult the writings of 
Whipple. 

He was a lecturer as well as a writer, though his topics on the 
platform were of the same class as his themes in the study. But 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 207 

the humor, vivacity and emphasis of his oral dehvery made him 
a favorite with audiences. Nor was he less popular 
in society, where his genial qualities and brilliant ^P^^^ ^^^*" 
talk made him more than welcome. He was the 
personal friend of the chief American writers of his day, a fact 
creditable to both him and them, since he never permitted per- 
sonal predilections to color his literary opinions. 

He studied and interpreted men as well as books, and had not 
a little to say on such topics as the laws of government, the prin- 
ciples of civilization, and the pohtical questions of the day. One 
of his volumes, "The Literature of the Age of Elizabeth," treats 
of those great writers of the sixteenth century whose productions 
belong as much to America as to England. " Washington and* the 
Principles of the Revolution " is a criticism of the first crucial 
epoch of our history ; " Daniel Webster and Rufus Choate " covers 
an interesting region of our Constitutional period ; and such books 
as " Success and its Conditions," " Character and Characteristic 
Men," and " Literature and Life," discuss more general aspects of 
existence. After his death a volume of posthumous sketches, 
largely political, was published ; but his fame is based upon and 
secured by what his own judgment had previously prompted him 
to put forth. 

R. H. Dana, Jr. (1815-1882), is known to literature chiefly by 
his " Two Years before the Mast," a record of a voyage made in 
1833, or thereabouts, from New England to CaHfornia, by way of 
Cape Horn. This was fifteen years before the discovery of gold 
on the Western coast, and the country was practically uninhabited. 
The only trade was in hides, and it was to barter for these that the 
voyage was undertaken. Dana, by way of restoring his infirm 
health, shipped as a common seaman, and wrote this ^ famous 
story of his experiences several years after his return narrative of 
to Boston. It is one of the best, if not the best, true ^^^"i^^®- 
narrative of a sea-life ever published : the style is quiet and simple, 
the descriptions vivid and stirring, and the record of facts so 
manifestly accurate and impartial, and, at the same time, so 



208 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

thoughtful and intelligent, that the reader feels as if he himself 
were a participant in the author's adventures. A hitherto un- 
known side of life is revealed in all its details : and its veracity 
and importance are evidenced by the fact that the book is 
still in print, and is probably read by as many persons to- 
day as at the time of its first appearance. Mr. Dana, after his 
return, applied himself to the study and practice of maritime law, 
and never seriously attempted to repeat his first literary success. 
It is seldom that a writer has achieved a fame so enduring on the 
basis of a single volume. 

Herman Melville (i8 19-189 1). Forty years ago, few American 
authors had so wide a reputation as Melville, whose books of 
sea-adventure, part fact and part fancy, were read and praised in 
England quite as much and as warmly as in this country. Not to 
have read " Typee " and " Omoo " was not to have made the 
acquaintance of the most entertaining and novel current literature : 
and those who take them up to-day find their charm and interest 
almost unimpaired. The leading sea-novelist of the present day 

has acknowledged Melville as his master ; and there 
An early sea- -^ ^^ doubt that he possessed not only exhaustive 

technical knowledge of his chosen field, but that 
his talent for exploiting it amounted to genius. The main 
substance of his books is plainly founded on fact : but the facts 
are so judiciously selected as to produce the effect of art, while 
the flavoring of fiction is so artfully introduced as to seem 
like fact. All the stories are told in the first person, and there 
is a fascination and mystery in the narrator's personality that 
much enhances the interest of the tale. But Melville's imagi- 
nation has a tendency to wildness and metaphysical extravagance ; 
and when he trusted to it alone, he becomes difficult and some- 
times repulsive. There seems, also, to be a background of gloom 
in his nature, making itself felt even in the midst of his sunshine : 
and now and then his speculations and rhapsodies have a tinge 
almost of insanity. " Typee " and " Omoo " are stories of adven- 
ture in the Pacific archipelago, as is also '' Mardi," but the latter 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 209 

merges into a quasi-symbolic analysis of human life, perplexing to 
the general reader, though the splendor and poetic beauty of the 
descriptions win his admiration. " Redburn " is the narrative of 
a voyage to Liverpool before the mast, in an American clipper, 
and is a model of simplicity and impressiveness : '' White Jacket " 
describes life on an American man-of-war, and overflows with 
humor, character, adventure and absorbing pictures of a kind of 
existence which has now ceased forever to exist. " Moby Dick, or 
The Whale " takes up the whole subject of whaling, as practised 
in the '30's and '40's, and is, if anything, more interesting and 
valuable than "White Jacket"; the scenes are grouped about a 
wildly romantic and original plot, concerned with the chase round 
the world of an enormous white whale — Moby Dick — by a sea- 
captain who has previously lost a limb in a -conflict with the 
monster, and has sworn revenge. This is the most powerful of 
Melville's books ; it was also the last of any literary importance. 
" Pierre, or The Ambiguities " is a repulsive, insane and impossi- 
ble romance, in which the sea has no part, and one or two later 
books need not be mentioned. But Melville's position in hterature 
is secure and solitary : he surpasses Cooper, when Cooper writes 
of the sea ; and no subsequent writer has even challenged a com- 
parison with him on that element. 

Mrs. Elizabeth (Bar stow) Stoddard (1823- ) was born in 

a seaport of Massachusetts, and was married at the age of thirty to 

Richard Henry Stoddard, the poet and literary critic. She is 

known as the author of three novels of New England Hfe as 

it was forty or fifty years ago. These books were first pubhshed 

at about the time of the outbreak of the Civil War, 

An uncom- 
and have lately been republished in a uniform edi- promising 

tion. Few men have written stories more original Realist of 
and powerful than these. They are short, concen- 
trated and austere ; they are pictures, not of events, but of being 
and growth. The dialogues are brief and pregnant, and serve 
not to advance the plot, but to reveal character. They evince 
deep and unflinching insight into the spiritual realities of life ; 



210 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the seemingly idle and purposeless utterances of the persons of 
the drama admit us into a strange and profound intimacy with 
their natures. The outward appearance of these persons is ordi- 
nary and, as a rule, unattractive : they live in commonplace sur- 
roundings : no singular experience or exceptional occurrence is 
employed to excite our attention. But the springs of thought 
and emotion are laid bare, and we see, beneath the famihar ex- 
terior, a novel and impressive interior region. There is no trace 
of the romantic or of the ideal in the narrative ; the realism is 
uncompromising, but it is realism of the soul rather than of the 
body. The material conditions are touched truthfully, but not 
insistently; the soul is shown as it is, unsoftened, unmitigated, 
selfish, cruel, passionate, secret, audacious. The drama is ren- 
dered more powerful by the local setting : the gloomy and rigid 
Puritan rule and habit of life, in deadly but silent grapple with 
the instincts and intuitions of the human spirit. Mrs. Stoddard 
has no passages of explanation or analysis : she aims to make her 
characters live before you, and you must learn to know them as 
you would learn to know people in the real world. Nothing is 
more original — more opposed to the conventionahties of fiction 
— than her treatment of the passion of love and hate. The 
stronger the emotion, the more rigorously it strives to conceal 
itself. To say that there is no " gush " in these stories would be 
the extreme of understatement. They are as severe as the old 
Greek dramas ; yet there is a personal human quality in them 
which the Greek has not. To read — or, rather, to study — this 
remarkable trilogy of novels is to undergo a fresh experience, not 
only of fiction but of life. Their quahty is too intense and stern, 
and the narrow, unlovely New England setting is too unfamiliar, 
to admit of their ever becoming popular : but they are strong 
and vital enough to modify, and for the better, the tendencies 
of modern fiction. Beauty enters into them but rarely ; but 
when it does come, it is like a violet in the desert, the sweeter 
for its dreary and unsympathetic environment. The humor is 
virile and spontaneous, widely different from the studied and 
giggling humor of the contemporary fashion. The titles of Mrs. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 211 

Stoddard's books are "Two Men," "Temple House," and "The 
Morgesons." 

William Starbuck Mayo (1812- ) is the author of a couple 
of books for boys — " Kaloolah " and " The Berber," which still 
survive, after the vicissitudes of thirty or forty years ; and of a novel 
of modern New York hfe — " Never Again," which, though 
published little more than twelve years ago, is forgotten. The 
two first books are stories of adventure in Africa and other remote 
places, in which physical strength and daring, romantic love, and 
perilous adventure, form the substance of the narrative. They 
are written with vigor and effect, and with a certain evident pleas- 
ure and interest on the author's part which are contagious. 
There is incident on every page, and the hero and the heroine 
are delectable and satisfactory in every necessary respect. A vein 
of humorous satire is also perceptible in " Kaloolah," which shows 
a comprehensive grasp of life by the writer. As for " Never 
Again," it possesses a labyrinthine plot, and a numerous array of 
characters, but the author's aim is inscrutable, and his romance 
is put in in the wrong place. It produces no definite effect on 
the mind, and its improbabilities are grotesque. It had, however, 
a measure of success in London, where it was accepted as a vera- 
cious picture of contemporary Hfe in Northeastern America. 

Josiah Gilbert Holland (1819-1881) was born in Belchertown, 
Massachusetts, the son of a poor mechanic and inventor. He was 
nearly forty years old before, under the pseudonym of " Timothy 
Titcomb," he made his first success in literature, in a series of 
papers addressed to young men, and pubhshed in the "Spring- 
field Republican." The interval had been spent in hard and 
distasteful work — first in trying to get an education, then in 
trying to teach others ; he took a diploma at a medical school, 
waited for practice that never came, went to Virginia, and 
returned ; married ; and finally settled down with Samuel Bowles 
to work on the "Springfield Republican." It was at Bowles's 
suggestion that the "Timothy Titcomb" papers were begun; 



212 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



and when they were collected in a volume, it was the firm of 

Charles Scribner & Co. that undertook their publi- 
The founder r i i i i • i 

of "Scrib- cation. The association of author and publisher, 

ner's Maga- tj-jug begun, resulted, years after, in the founding of 
zine. " 

^'Scribner's Monthly," now "The Century," one of 

the most successful magazines in the world. 

Meanwhile, Holland wrote numerous novels and poems and 
papers, all of which were successful, and some of them conspicu- 
ously so. Among them may be mentioned " Miss Gilbert's Career," 
published in i860, "Plain Talk on Familiar Subjects" (1865), 

"Kathrina," a poem (1867), "Arthur 
Bonnicastle" (1871), first pubhshed 
serially in " Scribner's Monthly," 
" The Mistress of the Manse " ( 1875 ). 
Holland's writings fall into three 
groups : the poems, the novels, and 
the papers on every-day morals and 
duties. The latter discuss a wide 
range of familiar topics, and the style 
is homely and commonplace. They 
place the average reader's own best 
thoughts before him, and it is to this 
catholic and unpretentious quality 
that they owe their success. The 
novels portray the conflict between 
honest unselfishness and self-seeking greed : the poems combine 
popular sentiment and morality. All are more or less didactic — 
they are meant to convey a lesson. None of Holland's writings 
have literary value : but their wide success shows that Hterary 
value is by no means essential to the attainment of popularity : 
and their freedom from sensationaHsm and all vicious features is 
to be commended. 




Josiah Gilbert Holland. 



Edward Everett Hale (1822- ) is a scholar of fair attain- 
ments, and is beloved and influential as a clergyman in Boston. 
But he has written enough to show that, had he devoted himself to 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE, 



213 



literature, he might have reached a high place among our men of 
the pen. He has the hterary touch and instinct, a vigorous, enjoy- 
able temperament, and a sane, thoughtful, humorous mind. In 
some respects he may be regarded as the forerunner 

of Frank Stockton. He delights to treat impossible ^ Boston 
,. . ... scholar, 

subjects m a realistic manner. But, beneath the fan- 
ciful humor of his conceptions, there is generally a deeper quality, 
which those who care for more than the outside may profit by. 
There is a grave moral in " The Man without a Country," a tale 
first pubhshed in the ''Atlantic Monthly," and so artfully con- 
structed as to appear like a true 
narrative. " My Double, and how 
he undid me," is purely comical, 
though the comedy is admirably 
managed : while " The Brick Moon " 
unites the fancy of Jules Verne with 
the soHd literary workmanship of 
Poe's " Hans Pfaal." These stories 
can be read again and again ; they 
are charming, not only as stories, 
but also for their literary texture 
and human quality. Their origi- 
nality is not in the structure of the 
plot merely ; it is ingrain : its source 
is in the make of the author's mind. 

He is a master of the material he works in ; and his productions, 
comparatively few in number, are likely to last. In addition to 
the series above mentioned, he has written such short novels as 
"Ten Times One is Ten" and "In His Name," — books which 
combine wholesome and hearty feeling with sound good sense and 
broad morality. 

Theodore Winthrop (1828-1861), a descendant of Governor 
Winthrop of Massachusetts, received a fine education, and was 
expected by his friends to do something worthy of his ancestry, 
and of his own marked abilities. But, until the breaking out of 




Edward Everett Hale. 



214 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the Civil War, he seemed unable to find anything to do. He 

travelled in Europe, and in -the West, and kept a journal of his 

experiences ; he was a charming companion, and was on intimate 

terms with some of the best men of his time ; but year after year 

he remained idle. When war was declared, however, he joined a 

regiment, and a few months later was shot at Great Bethel, in an 

otherwise unimportant skirmish. Meanwhile he had contributed 

to the " Atlantic Monthly " several papers descriptive of his camp 

experiences, and a short story called " Love on Skates." After his 

death, several complete novels in manuscript were found among 

his effects, and these were published by Ticknor & Fields. They 

were received with great favor, pardy due, no doubt, to the tragic 

end of their young author. They are strong stories. 

Some stir- ^^ ^^ action and passion, but are written in a self- 
nng stories. ^ ' 

conscious, abrupt style ; the sentiment is forced and 

the characterization unnatural. In " Cecil Dreeme," the first to 
be published, the scene is laid in New York, "Chrysalis Col- 
lege " being the old University Building on Washington Square. 
It is a morbid and gloomy tale. The next volume to appear was 
"John Brent," a story of life on the Western plains. It is a 
healthier story than the other, and the chapter called "The 
Gallop of Three" is a stirring piece of writing. A black horse, 
Don Fulano, plays a leading part in the narrative. "Edwin 
Brothertoft " is the name of the third novel, which goes back to 
Revolutionary times. "The Canoe and the Saddle," compiled 
from the author's journals, followed the novels. Winthrop lacked 
experience, and in aiming to be original, became cramped and 
artificial : but he aimed high, and there are the germs of good 
possibilities in his pages. 

Bayard Taylor (1825-1878). Beginning the world in an 

obscure Pennsylvania village, without money, without friends, and 

with little or no education, Taylor died at fifty-three, 

A worker in ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ best-known and best-loved men of letters 
many fields. , „ , 

in America. He was renowned as a traveller, popular 

as a journahst, praised as a novelist, in demand as a lecturer and 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 



215 




admired as a poet. He lived to fill the post of Minister to Ger- 
many, and he was the friend and favorite of the foremost American 
literary men of his time. 

It was a brilliant and energetic career, and to outsiders it seemed 
a successful one ; but Taylor had a 
high and abstracted ambition, and 
he felt that, in what he most cared 
for, his success had been but par- 
tial. He desired to be a great poet : 
poetry was the end and aim of his 
life : all else was but conducive or 
preparatory to that. In order to 
write poetry, it was necessary to see 
and to know ; and, meanwhile, to 
provide himself with the means of 
livelihood. He saw Europe at twenty 
years of age, travelling from place to 
place on foot, and supporting him- 
self by letters written to the New 
York " Tribune." He repeated and extended his journeyings, 
visited the far East, and rejoiced in the ardor of tropic suns, 
penetrated northward to where the sun rolls along the horizon, 
instead of sinking beneath it, climbed glaciers and 
traversed deserts, and filled his memory with the ^^..^.^^ 
history and the relics of antiquity. By constant appli- 
cation to all manner of literary work, he acquired at last a 
tolerable competence ; but although, by that time, he had pro- 
duced a fair amount of verse, he felt that opportunity and 
leisure had as yet been wanting to realize the high excellence 
that he coveted. But the opportunity had only been postponed : 
it had not been lost. Now it had come : and he bent himself 
to his lofty task with hopeful ardor. He wrote better than he 
had ever before written ; he produced poems which were good, 
admirable — all but great. But they were not quite great : and 
no one recognized this truth so quickly and clearly as he. He 
had miscalculated his powers ; they had sufificed to bring him 



Bayard Taylor. 



216 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

almost within reach of his goal, and there they failed him. It 
was a tragedy of the soul, to be appreciated by those only who 
were as finely organized as he. He had dreamed of being first ; 
and to find himself, at the end of his career, anywhere else than 
first was to him no better than to have fallen at the outset. He 
died, while yet comparatively young, a disappointed man, though 
only those who knew him most intimately suspected it. 

His books were many. Besides his prose descriptions of his 
various journeys, from the " Views Afoot " to the " Visit to India," 
he wrote four novels, of which the first, '' Hannah Thurston," is 

the best ; and published " Rhymes of Travel," " Cali- 
history"^ fornia Ballads," " Poems of the Orient," and " Lars." 

He was at his best in his lyrics : and such poems as 
*' The Bedouin Song," and " Amram's Wooing " are nearly perfect. 
His narrative poems have many fine passages, but are, as a rule, 
better in conception than in execution. "The Prophet " attempts 
to render poetical a suggestion derived from the Mormon episode ; 
*' Prince DeukaUon " traces, in dramatic form, the course of civili- 
zation, past and to come. His best poem is " The Masque of the 
Gods," written late in life, and with extraordinary rapidity. It was 
in his last years, too, that he made a translation of Goethe's " Faust," 
which is regarded as the best in existence. His acquaintance with 
German literature was profound, and his wife was a German woman. 
A lyric poet "'^^^ genius showed strongest in emotional and erotic 
of Mgfh poetry. But he sometimes soared so high that one 

^^ ®^' feels as if a few strokes more of his wings would have 

made his immortality secure. 



Selections and Exercises. 
A SYMBOL. 



Heavy, and hot, and gray. 
Day following unto day, 
A felon gang, their blind life drag away, 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 217 

Blind, vacant, dumb, as Time, 

Lapsed from his wonted prime. 

Begot them basely in incestuous crime ; 

So little life there seems 
About the woods and streams, — 
Only a sleep, perplexed with nightmare dreams. 

The burden of a sigh 
Stifles the weary sky, 
Where smouldering clouds in ashen masses lie : 

The forests fain would groan. 
But, silenced into stone. 
Crouch, in the dull blue vapors round them thrown. 

O light, more drear than gloom ! 
Than death more dead such bloom. 
Yet life — yet life — shall burst this gathering doom ! 



Behold ! a swift and silent fire 

Yon dull cloud pierces, in the west. 

And blackening, as with growing ire. 
He hfts his forehead from his breast. 

He mutters to the ashy host 

That all around him sleeping lie — 

Sole chieftain on the airy coast. 
To fight the battles of the sky. 

He slowly lifts his weary strength. 
His shadow rises on the day. 

And distant forests feel at length 
A wind from landscapes far away. 



218 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



How shall the cloud unload its thunder? 

How shall its flashes fire the air? 
Hills and valleys are dumb with wonder : 

Lakes look up with a leaden stare. 

Hark ! the lungs of the striding giant 
Bellow an angry answer back ! 

Hurling the hair from his brows defiant, 
Crushing the laggards along his track. 

Now his step, like a battling Titan's, 
Scales in flame the hills of the sky ; 

Struck by his breath, the forest whitens ; 
Fluttering waters feel him nigh ! 

Stroke on stroke of his thunder-hammer - 
Sheets of flame from his anvU hurled - 

Heaven's doors are burst in the clamor. 
He alone possesses the world ! 



Drowned woods, shudder no more 
Vexed lakes, smile as before : 
Hills that vanished, appear again : 
Rise for harvest, prostrate grain ! 

Shake thy jewels, twinkling grass : 
Blossoms, tint the winds that pass : 
Sun, behold a world restored ! 
World, again thy son is lord ! 

Thunder-spasms the waking be 
Into Life from Apathy : 
Life, not Death, is in the gale, — 
Let the coming Doom prevaU ! 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 219 

I. This part describes the hot, sultry days preceding a storm. 
Take it stanza by stanza and study the imagery and the tense 
expression. II. The gathering of the storm. Does it increase 
the effect of the description to personify the cloud and make it a 
leader? What is the "ashy host "? III. The storm in its fury. 
Note the gradual growth in violence and power till the final line, 
" He alone possesses the world." IV. What is the appearance of 
the landscape after the storm has passed away? What does it 
signify to hfe ? 

Do you know of a more vivid description of a storm? Com- 
pare it with any other description you can find. 

BEDOUIN SONG. 

From the Desert I come to thee 

On a stalhon shod with fire ; 
And the winds are left behind 
In the speed of my desire. 
Under thy window I stand, 
And the midnight hears my cry : 
I love thee, I love but thee, 
With a love that shall not die 
Till the sun grows cold, 
And the stars are old, 
And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold! 

Look from thy window and see 

My passion and my pain ; 
I lie on the sands below, 

And I faint in thy disdain. 
Let the night-winds touch thy brow 
With the heat of my burning sigh, 
And melt thee to hear the vow 
Of a love that shall not die 
Till the sun grows cold. 
And the stars are old, 
And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold! 



220 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

My Steps are nightly driven, 
By the fever in my breast, 
To hear from thy lattice breathed 

The word that shall give me rest. 
Open the door of thy heart, 

And open thy chamber door, 
And my kisses shall teach thy lips 
The love that shall fade no more 
Till the sun grows cold, 
And the stars are old, 
And the leaves of the Judgment Book ujifold! 

What are the most conspicuous quahties of this poem? Mean- 
ing of " Bedouin " ? Has the poem the '' Bedouin " atmosphere? 
How is the atmosphere secured ? Compare this poem to Shelley's 
" Lines to an Indian Air." Which do you prefer? Why? 



AMRAM'S WOOING. 
I. 

You ask, O Frank ! how Love is born 
Within these glowing climes of Morn, 
Where envious veils conceal the charms 
That tempt a Western lover's arms, 
And how, without a voice or sound, 
From heart to heart the path is found. 
Since on the eye alone is flung 
The burden of the silent tongue. 
You hearken with a doubtful smile 
Whene'er the wandering bards beguile 
Our evening indolence with strains 
Whose words gush molten through our veins. 
The songs of Love, but half confessed, 
W^here Passion sobs on Sorrow's breast, 
And mighty longings, tender fears. 
Steep the strong heart in fire and tears. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 221 

The source of each accordant strain 

Lies deeper than the Poet's brain. 

First from the people's heart must spring 

The passions which he learns to sing ; 

They are the wind, the harp is he, 

To voice their fitful melody, — 

The language of their varying fate, 

Their pride, grief, love, ambition, hate, — 

The tahsman which holds inwrought 

The touchstone of the listener's thought ; 

That penetrates each vain disguise. 

And brings his secret to his eyes. 

For, like a solitary bird 

That hides among the boughs unheard 

Until some mate, whose carol breaks. 

Its own betraying song awakes, 

So, to its echo in those lays, 

The ardent heart itself betrays. 

Crowned with a prophet's honor, stands 

The Poet, on Arabian sands ; 

A chief, whose subjects love his thrall, — = 

The sympathizing heart of all. 



Vaunt not your Western maids to me. 
Whose charms to every gaze are free : 
My love is selfish, and would share 
Scarce with the sun, or general air. 
The sight of beauty which has shone 
Once for mine eyes, and mine alone. 
Love likes concealment ; he can dress 
With fancied grace the loveliness 
That shrinks behind its virgin veil. 
As hides the moon her forehead pale 
Behind a cloud, yet leaves the air 



I 

111 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Softer than if her orb were there. 
And as the splendor of a star, 
When sole in heaven, seems brighter far. 
So shines the eye, Love's star and sun. 
The brighter, that it shines alone. 
The Hght from out its darkness sent 
Is Passion's life and element ; 
And when the heart is warm and young. 
Let but that single ray be flung 
Upon its surface, and the deep 
Heaves from its unsuspecting sleep, 
As heaves the ocean when its floor 
Breaks over the volcano's core. 
Who thinks if cheek or hp be fair? 
Is not afl beauty centered where 
The soul looks out, the feelings move. 
And Love his answer gives to love ? 
Look on the sun, and you will find 
For other sights your eyes are bhnd. 
Look — if the colder blood you share 
Can give your heart the strength to dare 
In eyes of dark and tender fire : 
What more can blinded love desire ? 



I was a stripling, quick and bold. 
And rich in pride as poor in gold, 
When God's good will my journey bent 
One day to Shekh Abdallah's tent. 
My only treasure was a steed 
Of Araby's most precious breed ; 
And whether 'twas in boastful whim 
To show his metded speed of Hmb, 
Or that presumption, which, in sooth. 
Becomes the careless brow of youth, — 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE, 223 

Which takes the world as birds the air, 

And moves in freedom everywhere, — 

It matters not. But 'midst the tents 

I rode in easy confidence, 

Till to Abdallah's door I pressed 

And made myself the old man's guest. 

My " Peace be with you ! " was returned 

With the grave courtesy he learned 

From age and long authority. 

And in God's name he welcomed me. 

The pipe replenished, with its stem 

Of jasmine wood and amber gem. 

Was at my lips, and while I drew 

The rosy-sweet, soft vapor through 

In ringlets of dissolving blue. 

Waiting his speech with reverence meet, 

A woman's garments brushed my feet. 

And first through boyish senses ran 

The pulse of love which made me man. 

The handmaid of her father's cheer, 

With timid grace she gUded near. 

And, lightly dropping on her knee, 

Held out a silver zerf to me. 

Within whose cup the fragrance sent 

From Yemen's sunburnt berries blent 

With odors of the Persian rose. 

That picture still in memory glows 

With the same heat as then, — the gush 

Of fever, with its fiery flush 

Startling my blood ; and I can see — 

As she this moment knelt to me — ■ 

The shrouded graces of her form ; 

The half-seen arm, so round and warm ; 

The Httle hand, whose tender veins 

Branched through the henna's orange stains ; 

The head, in act of offering bent ; 



224 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

And through the parted veil, which lent 
A charm for what it hid, the eye, 
Gazelle-like, large, and dark, and shy, 
That with a soft, sweet tremble shone 
Beneath the fervor of my own. 
Yet could not, would not, turn away 
The fascination of its ray. 
But half in pleasure, half in fright. 
Grew unto mine, and builded bright 
From heart to heart a bridge of light. 

IV. 

From the fond trouble of my look 
The zerf within her fingers shook. 
As with a start, like one who breaks 
Some happy trance of thought, and wakes 
Unto forgotten toil, she rose 
And passed. I saw the curtains close 
Behind her steps : the light was gone. 
But in the dark my heart dreamed on. 
Some random words — thanks ill expressed 
I to the stately Shekh addressed. 
With the intelligence which he, 
My host, could not demand of me ; 
How, wandering in the desert chase, 
I spied from far his camping-place. 
And Arab honor bade me halt 
To break his bread and share his salt. 
Thereto, fit reverence for his name. 
The praise our speech is quick to frame, 
Which, empty though it seem, was dear 
To the old warrior's willing ear, 
And led his thoughts, by many a track. 
To deeds of ancient prowess back. 
Until my love could safely hide 
Beneath the covert of his pride. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 225 

And when his " Go with God ! " was said, 
Upon El-Azrek's back I sped 
Into the desert, wide and far, 
Beneath the silver evening-star. 
And, fierce with passion, without heed 
Urged o'er the sands my snorting steed 
As if those afrites, feared of man, — 
Who watch the lonely caravan. 
And, if a loiterer lags behind. 
Efface its tracks with sudden wind. 
Then fill the air with cheating cries. 
And make false pictures to his eyes 
Till the bewildered sufferer dies, — 
Had breathed on me their demon breath, 
And spurred me to the hunt of Death. 



Yet madness such as this was worth 
All the cool wisdom of the earth. 
And sweeter glowed its wild unrest 
Than the old calm of brain and breast. 
The image of that maiden beamed 
Through all I saw, or thought, or dreamed. 
Till she became, like Light or Air, 
A part of life. And she shall share, 
I vowed, my passion and my fate, 
Or both shall fail me, soon or late. 
In the vain effort to possess ; 
For Life lives only in success. 
I could not, in her father's sight. 
Purchase the hand which was his right ; 
And well I knew how quick denied 
The prayer would be to empty pride ; 
But Heaven and Earth shall sooner move 
Than bar the energy of Love. 



226 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

The sinews of my life became 

Obedient to that single aim, 

And desperate deed and patient thought 

Together in its service wrought. 

Keen as a falcon, when his eye 

In search of quarry reads the sky, 

I stole unseen, at eventide, 

Behind the well, upon whose side 

The girls their jars of water leaned. 

By one long, sandy hillock screened, 

I watched the forms that went and came, 

With eyes that sparkled with the flame 

Up from my heart in flashes sent. 

As one by one they came and went 

Amid the sunset radiance cast 

On the red sands : they came and passed. 

And she, — thank God ! — she came at last ! 



Then, whfle her fair companion bound 

The cord her pitcher's throat around, 

And steadied with a careful hand 

Its slow descent, upon the sand 

At the Shekh's daughter's feet, I sped 

A slender arrow, shaft and head 

With breathing jasmine-flowers entwined, 

And roses such as on the wind 

Of evening with rich odors fan 

The white kiosks of Ispahan. 

A moment, fired with love and hope, 

I stayed upon the yellow slope 

El-Azrek's hoofs, to see her raise 

Her startled eyes in sweet amaze,— 

To see her make the unconscious sign 

Which recognized the gift as mine. 

And place, before she turned to part, 

The flowery barb against her heart. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. Ill 



Again the Shekh's divan I pressed : 

The jasmine pipe was brought the guest, 

And Mariam, loveUer than before, 

Knelt with the steamy cup once more. 

O bhss ! within those eyes to see 

A soul of love look out on me, — 

A fount of passion, which is truth 

In the wild dialect of Youth, — 

Whose rich abundance is outpoured 

Like worship at a shrine adored. 

And on its rising deluge bears 

The heart to raptures or despairs. 

While from the cup the zerf contained 

The foamy amber juice I drained, 

A rose-bud in the zerf expressed 

The sweet confession of her breast. 

One glance of glad intelligence. 

And silently she glided thence. 

" O Shekh ! " I cried, as she withdrew, 

(Short is the speech where hearts are true,) 

" Thou hast a daughter ; let me be 

A shield to her, a sword to thee ! " 

Abdallah turned his steady eye 

Full on my face, and made reply : 

" It cannot be. The treasure sent 

By God must not be idly spent. 

Strong men there are, in service tried. 

Who seek the maiden for a bride ; 

And shall I slight their worth and truth 

To feed the passing flame of youth? " 

VIII. 



" No passing flame ! " my answer ran ; 
" But love which is the life of man, 



228 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Warmed with his blood, fed by his breath, 
And, when it fails him, leaves but Death. 

Shekh, I hoped not thy consent ; 
But having tasted in thy tent 

An Arab welcome, shared thy bread, 

1 come to warn thee I shall wed 
Thy daughter, though her suitors be 
As leaves upon the tamarind-tree. 
Guard her as thou mayst guard, I swear 
No other bed than mine shall wear 
Her virgin honors, and thy race 
Through me shall keep its ancient place. 
Thou'rt warned, and duty bids no more ; 
For, when I next approach thy door, 
Her child shall intercessor be 

To build up peace 'twixt thee and me." 

A little flushed my boyish brow ; 

But calmly then I spake, as now. 

The Shekh, with dignity that flung 

Rebuke on my impetuous tongue, 

Replied : " The young man's hopes are fair ; 

The young man's blood would all things dare. 

But age is wisdom, and can bring 

Confusion on the soaring wing 

Of reckless youth. Thy words are just, 

But needless ; for I still can trust 

A father's jealousy to shield 

From robber grasp the gem concealed 

Within his tent, tiU he may yield 

To fitting hands the precious store. 

Go, then, in peace ; but come no more." 

IX. 

My only sequin served to bribe 
A cunning mother of the tribe 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 229 

To Mariam's mind my plan to bring. 
A feather of the wild dove's wing, 
A lock of raven gloss and stain 
Sheared from El-Azrek's flowing mane 
And that pale flower whose fragrant cup 
Is closed until the moon comes up, — 
But then a tenderer beauty holds 
Than any flower the sun unfolds, — 
Declared my purpose. Her reply 
Let loose the wings of ecstasy : 
Two roses and the moonlight flower 
Told the acceptance, and the hour, — 
Two daily suns to waste their glow. 
And then, at moonrise, bliss — or woe. 



El-Azrek now, on whom alone 
The burden of our fate was thrown. 
Claimed from my hands a double meed 
Of careful training for the deed. 
I gave him of my choicest store, — 
No guest was ever honored more. 
With flesh of kid, with whitest bread 
And dates of Egypt was he fed ; 
The camel's heavy udders gave 
Their frothy juice his thirst to lave : 
A charger, groomed with better care, 
The Sultan never rode to prayer. 
My burning hope, my torturing fear, 
I breathed in his sagacious ear ; 
Caressed him as a brother might. 
Implored his utmost speed in flight. 
Hung on his neck with many a vow. 
And kissed the white star on his brow. 
His large and lustrous eyeball sent 
A look which made me confident. 



230 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

As if in me some doubt he spied, 
And met it with a human pride. 
" Enough : I trust thee. 'Tis the hour, 
And I have need of all thy power. 
Without a wing, God gives thee wings, 
And Fortune to thy forelock clings." 

XI. 

The yellow moon was rising large 

Above the Desert's dusky marge. 

And save the jackal's whining moan. 

Or distant camel's gurgling groan. 

And the lamenting monotone 

Of winds that breathe their vain desire 

And on the lonely sands expire, 

A silent charm, a breathless spell. 

Waited with me beside the well. 

She is not there, — not yet, — but soon 

A white robe glimmers in the moon. 

Her little footsteps make no sound 

On the soft sand ; and with a bound. 

Where terror, doubt, and love unite 

To blind her heart to all but flight, 

Trembling, and panting, and oppressed. 

She threw herself upon my breast. 

By Allah ! like a bath of flame 

The seething blood tumultuous came 

From life's hot centre as I drew 

Her mouth to mine : our spirits grew 

Together in one long, long kiss, — 

One swooning, speechless pulse of bliss 

That, throbbing from the heart's core met 

In the united lips. Oh, yet 

The eternal sweetness of that draught 

Renews the thirst with which I quaffed 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 231 

Love's virgin vintage : starry fire 
Leapt from the twilights of desire, 
And in the golden dawn of dreams 
The space grew warm with radiant beams, 
Which from that kiss streamed o'er a sea 
Of rapture, in whose bosom we 
Sank down, and sank eternally. 



xn. 

Now nerve thy limbs, El-Azrek ! Fling 
Thy head aloft, and like a wing 
Spread on the wind thy cloudy mane ! 
The hunt is up : their stallions strain 
The urgent shoulders close behind. 
And the wide nostril drinks the wind. 
But thou art, too, of Nedjid's breed. 
My brother ! and the falcon's speed 
Slant down the storm's advancing line 
Would laggard be if matched with thine. 
Still leaping forward, whistling through 
The moonlight-laden air, we flew ; 
And from the distance, threateningly. 
Came the pursuer's eager cry. 
Still forward, forward, stretched our flight 
Through the long hours of middle night ; 
One after one the followers lagged. 
And even my faithful Azrek flagged 
Beneath his double burden, till 
The streaks of dawn began to fill 
The East, and freshening in the race, 
Their goaded horses gained apace. 
I drew my dagger, cut the girth. 
Tumbled my saddle to the earth. 
And clasped with desperate energies 
My stallion's side with iron knees ; 



232 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

While Mariam, clinging to my breast, 

The closer for that peril pressed. 

They come ! they come ! Their shouts we hear, 

Now faint and far, now fierce and near. 

O brave El-Azrek ! on the track 

Let not one fainting sinew slack, 

Or know thine agony of flight 

Endured in vain ! The purple light 

Of breaking morn has come at last. 

O joy ! the thirty leagues are past ; 

And, gleaming in the sunrise, see. 

The white tents of the Aneyzee ! 

The warriors of the waste, the foes 

Of Shekh Abdallah's tribe, are those 

Whose shelter and support I claim. 

Which they bestow in Allah's name ; 

While, wheeling back, the baffled few 

No longer venture to pursue. 



And now, O Frank ! if you would see 

How soft the eyes that looked on me 

Through Mariam's silky lashes, scan 

Those of my little Solyman. 

And should you marvel if the child 

His stately grandsire reconciled 

To that bold theft, when years had brought 

The golden portion which he sought, 

And what upon this theme befell, 

The Shekh himself can better tell. 

I. Meaning of " Frank." What contrast is drawn between 
Eastern and Western methods of love-making ? What is the office 
of the poet? H. Why is the veiled face of Eastern maids to be 
preferred? Why does he pay such a tribute to the beauty of the 
eyes and the significance of their glances? How much of love 
can they express? HI. Who was Amram? What were his cir- 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 233 

cumstances ? Describe the instance of Eastern hospitality. What 
caused the maiden to appear? Who was she? What were her 
charms? How did the guest show his emotion? How did the 
maiden respond ? IV. What was the maiden's behavior? Is the 
guest's heart touched ? Does he attach importance to it ? What 
does he do? V. Does he enjoy his "madness"? What is his 
resolution? How does he proceed to carry it out? VI. How 
does he declare his love ? How is it accepted ? VII. Why does 
he visit the Shekh again? How is he repaid? How does Mariam 
confess her love ? Tell the meaning of the brief poetic request of 
the lover. Why does the Shekh refuse? VIII. How does the 
lover resent the imputation upon the permanence of the flame? 
Is he discouraged by the answer he gets ? Why does he warn the 
Shekh ? Is the Shekh afraid ? IX. How does he propose a plan 
of elopement to Mariam? What is the plan? Does she under- 
stand? Does she accept? How does she indicate the time? 
X. Why does he caress his horse? XL When do they meet? 
How do they meet ? What have these lovers said to each other ? 
Does it seem necessary that anything should have been said? 
Does the courtship seem to have been more or less poetic than 
the conventional ones of Western civilization? XII. Describe 
the pursuit. XIII. Are all satisfied ? 

Mention the peculiar customs you notice. How does the poet 
produce the Arabian atmosphere? Does the poet feel the hfe as 
well as he sees it? Does the artist or the man speak first in 
selecting this theme? Select the sentiments in regard to love. 
Which do you prefer? Which of the thirteen parts do you think 
most beautiful? Characterize the love shown here with all the 
adjectives that seem appropriate. 

THE QUAKER WIDOW. 
I. 
Thee finds me in the garden, Hannah, — come in ! Tis kind of thee 
To wait until the Friends were gone, who came to comfort me. 
The still and quiet company a peace may give, indeed. 
But blessed is the single heart that comes to us at need. 



234 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



Come, sit thee down ! Here is the bench where Benjamin would sit 
On First-day afternoons in spring, and watch the swallows flit : 
He loved to smell the sprouting box, and hear the pleasant bees 
Go humming round the lilacs and through the apple-trees. 



I think he loved the spring : not that he cared for flowers : most 

men 
Think such things fooHshness, — but we were first acquainted then. 
One spring : the next he spoke his mind ; the third I was his wife. 
And in the spring (it happened so) our children entered life. 



He was but seventy-five : I did not think to lay him yet 
In Kennett graveyard, where at Monthly Meeting first we met. 
The Father's mercy shows in this : 'tis better I should be 
Picked out to bear the heavy cross — alone in age — than he. 



We've lived together fifty years : it seems but one long day, 
One quiet Sabbath of the heart, till he was called away ; 
And as we bring from Meeting-time a sweet contentment home, 
So, Hannah, I have store of peace for all the days to come. 

VI. 

I mind (for I can tell thee now) how hard it was to know 
If I had heard the spirit right, that told me I should go ; 
For father had a deep concern upon his mind that day. 
But mother spoke for Benjamin, — she knew what best to say. 

vn. 
Then she was still : they sat awhile : at last she spoke again, . 
''The Lord inchne thee to the right !" and "Thou shalt have him, 

Jane ! " 
My father said. I cried. Indeed, 'twas not the least of shocks, 
For Benjamin was Hicksite, and father Orthodox. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 235 

VIII. 

I thought of this ten years ago, when daughter Ruth we lost : 
Her husband's of the world, and yet I could not see her crossed. 
She wears, thee knows, the gayest gowns, she hears a hireling 

priest — 
Ah, dear ! the cross was ours : her life's a, happy one, at least. 



Perhaps she'll wear a plainer dress when she's as old as I, — 
Would thee believe it, Hannah ? once / felt temptation nigh ! 
My wedding-gown was ashen silk, too simple for my taste : 
I wanted lace around the neck, and a ribbon at the waist. 



How strange it seemed to sit with him upon the woman's side ! 
I did not dare to lift my eyes : I felt more fear than pride. 
Till, ''in the presence of the Lord," he said, and then there came 
A holy strength upon my heart, and I could say the same. 

XI. 

I used to blush when he came near, but then I showed no sign ; 
With all the meeting looking on, I held his hand in mine. 
It seemed my bashfulness was gone, now I was his for life : 
Thee knows the feehng, Hannah, — thee, too, hast been a wife. 

XII. 

As home we rode, I saw no fields look half so green as ours ; 
The woods were coming into leaf, the meadows full of flowers ; 
The neighbors met us in the lane, and every face was kind, — 
'Tis strange how Uvely everything comes back upon my mind. 

XIII. 

I see, as plain as thee sits there, the wedding-dinner spread : 
At our own table we were guests, with father at the head. 
And Dinah Passmore helped us both, — 'twas she stood up with me. 
And Abner Jones with Benjamin, — and now they're gone, all 
three ! 



236 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

XIV. 

It is not right to wish for death ; the Lord disposes best. 
His Spirit comes to quiet hearts, and fits them for His rest ; 
And that He halved our little flock was merciful, I see : 
For Benjamin has two in heaven, and two are left with me. 

XV. 

Eusebius never cared to farm, — 'twas not his call, in truth. 
And I must rent the dear old place, and go to daughter Ruth. 
Thee'll say her ways are not like mine, — young people nowadays 
Have fallen sadly off, I think, from all the good old ways. 

XVI. 

But Ruth is still a Friend at heart ; she keeps the simple tongue. 
The cheerful, kindly nature we loved when she was young; 
And it was brought upon my mind, remembering her, of late. 
That we on dress and outward things perhaps lay too much weight. 

XVII. 

I once heard Jesse Kersey say, a spirit clothed with grace, 
And pure, almost, as angels are, may have a homely face. 
And dress may be of less account : the Lord will look within : 
The soul it is that testifies of righteousness or sin. 

XVIII. 

Thee mustn't be too hard on Ruth : she's anxious I should go, 
And she will do her duty as a daughter should, I know. 
'Tis hard to change so late in hfe, but we must be resigned : 
The Lord looks down contentedly upon a willing mind. 

Notice the great contrast between this love story and " Amran's 
Wooing." Any romance, color or adventure connected with this 
courtship? What was the only objection to the lover? How is 
the intensity of the bride's joy shown through her quiet manner? 
What has happened to the family? To whom is she talking? 
About what? What spirit does she show? How is the Quaker 
atmosphere produced? Characterize the love shown here with all 
'the adjectives that seem appropriate. 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 237 

LARS. 

[This poem can be bought in No. i6 of the " Riverside Literature Series " for 
15 cents.] 

This idyl ranks with the best produced in this country and 
therefore deserves careful study. Read it in class with comments, 
questions and explanations. Reproduce it in your own language. 
Compare it in motives, characters, situations and environment 
with Longfellow's "Evangeline" (No. i, " Riv. Lit. Series"). 

General. — What books of travel has the author written? 
Have you read any of them? What quahties do they show? 
What novels has he written? Give an outline of any you have 
read. Select and study his narrative poems. Do you find any 
American poet excelling him in this field ? Where are the scenes 
usually laid ? Which division of the complete edition of the poems 
do you think most characteristic ? W^hat motive predominates in 
his lyrics? Do you find a variety of lyrical motives? Of lyrical 
measures ? Do you find poems upon slavery ? Upon patriotism ? 
Compare his " National Ode " with Lanier's " From this Hundred 
Terraced Height" and Lowell's " Commemoration Ode." 

Henry Timrod (1829-1867) wrote a volume of poems which 
was edited by Hayne. Timrod's verse is more passionate than 
Hayne's, though less catholic in its scope. His war lyrics move 
in a musical and impetuous measure : in a quieter vein is his 
delicate and spontaneously fanciful " Spring in South Carolina." 

Abram J. Ryan (1840-1886) was born in Ireland, but was 
reared in the South, and conceived a warm attachment to his 
adopted land. He has been called the " Laureate of the Lost 
Cause." Some of the best of his poems find their motive in the 
events of the Civil War. "The Sword of Robert Lee " rings like 
the battle-cry of those whom he led ; " The Conquered Banner " 
is an eloquent lament over defeat. Others of his pieces picture 
his sympathetic delight in the semi-tropical scenery of his South- 



238 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

ern home : and he has also written much verse of an elevated 
spiritual and religious character. 

William Gilmore Simms (i8 16-1870), John Esten Cooke 
(1830-1886), John Pendleton Kennedy (i 795-1870), Paul 
Hayne (i 831-1886), are a few of the names of Southern writers 
who attained eminence. We have been hearing more from the 

South of late, and are likely to hear more yet in 
galaxy!^^^ the future : indeed, it is more than possible that 

another generation may find us receiving our best 
literature from that part of our country. But in the South, 
before the war, literature was an almost discredited profession, 
and it required some genius and more courage to venture to 
write at all. To be a literary man by profession was rare 
indeed : most Southern authors of this period followed other 
callings for a livelihood : lawyers, especially, showed a ten- 
dency to dabble in literature in their idle moments. Men of 
commanding genius were plentiful in the Southern States : but 
their genius was applied to other matters than the multiplying of 
books. They were statesmen, orators, jurists, planters, but not 
writers. Nor was the reading class sufficiently large and constant 
to support writers, had there been many of them. 

Simms himself began life as a lawyer, but the literary instinct 
proved too strong for him, and, to his own financial cost, he yielded 

to it. He was a versatile and diligent author, en- 
founder^^ gaging in many branches of literary work. Of all 

that he did, his novels alone survive, and even they 
belong to a style of romance no longer in vogue. They are 
modelled upon the lines laid down by Sir Walter Scott, and are 
full of intrigue, incident and action, with a Southern historical 
background. Their faults are largely due to the time and con- 
ditions in which Simms wrote ; he deserves credit for his vigorous 

^ , ^, effort to found a Southern hterature. John Esten 

Cooke tne •' 

Virginia Cooke, of Virginia, was almost as industrious as 

chronicler. gii-j-jiiis^ and showed a finer quality of imagination. 
His ''The Virginia Comedians" is a good novel, surpassing 



FROM HAWTHORNE TO BRET HARTE. 239 

Simms's " Yemassee," and fairly meriting the reputation of being 
the best ante-bellum story published in the South. Both writers 
missed an opportunity by not describing Southern Hfe as it was at 
the time they wrote — a mistake not made by later authors of 
that region. They wrote good English, they ardendy loved their 
country and they recognized the artistic value of their materials ; 
but they failed to take the best advantage of them. Kennedy, the 
friend of Poe, was born in Baltimore, and was famous Kennedy and 
as the author of "Swallow Barn" before Poe took "SwaUow 
the prize offered by the " Saturday Visitor " with his 
" Manuscript found in a Bottle." '' Swallow Barn " is a quiet and 
agreeable story of country life in Virginia, and it has remained the 
most popular of Kennedy's novels. He was a lawyer by profession, 
and once filled a post in the Cabinet at Washington. Paul Hamilton 
Hayne was a poet exclusively, and, with the exception of Poe, was 
the truest poet of the South. A selection of his best productions 
would show verses, and entire poems, not unworthy to be com- 
pared with any save the very best written in this country. He did 
not sufficiently concentrate his powers : but the music 
and loveliness of his quieter pieces, and the passionate ^^^^ 
emotion of his war-lyrics, win the heart and stir the 
pulse. South Carolina and Georgia have found no laureate so 
sympathetic and eloquent as he. Among his best poems are " The 
Pine's Mystery," " Forecastings," the sonnet " Earth Odors after 
Rain," the historical lyric " The Battle of King's Mountain," and 
the dramatic sketch " Antonio Mehdori." 

Other Southern writers who may be mentioned in this place are 
William Wirt, author of " Life of Patrick Henry " ; Charles 
Etienne Gayarre, historian and dramatist ; Augustus 
B. Longstreet, author of " Georgia Scenes " ; Richard ^^ter^. 
Henry Wilde, who wrote the poem " My Life is like 
the Summer Rose " ; Joseph G. Baldwin, who wrote " Flush Times 
of Alabama and Mississippi " ; and the well-known woman novelists, 
Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth and Miss Augusta J. Evans. 

The name of Edmund Quincy (1808-1877) appears only in 
the more exhaustive of our literary anthologies ; yet it designates 



240 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

one of the most charming writers as well as the most reticent 
novelist in the United States. He was the son of Josiah Quincy, 
president of Harvard College, and its historian. Edmund, who 
graduated from Harvard in 1827, was a man of fine scholarship, a 
gentleman of the purest type, a refined but genuine humorist. 
The chief energies of his life were devoted to the anti-slavery 
cause, and his writings on this subject would fill many volumes. 
But to hterature proper his contributions were, as has been inti- 
mated, exceeding few. He wrote but a single novel — " Wensley " 
— a volume of less than two hundred and fifty short pages ; and 
in addition some half-dozen brief stories. '' Wensley " overflows 
with delicate and spontaneous humor ; it is written in a style of 
cultivated and spontaneous colloquialism : the characterization is 
distinct and admirable, the Hterary quality incontestable, and the 
story itself, though conceived in the quiet key of the novels of 
Jane Austen, has an absorbing interest. The shorter sketches are 
not less charming on a small scale. 

We may conclude this chapter with the names of Donald G. 
Mitchell C'lk Marvel") (182 2-), author of *' Reveries of a 
Numerous Bachelor " and " Dream-Life," and of many popular 
writersof books for boys ; Richard B. Kimball (1816-1892), 
lesser fame. ^^^.j^^^. ^f a g^.^ Leger " : J. R. Gilmore ("Edward 
Kirke") (1823-), author of "Among the Pines," and other stories 
of the Civil War; Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney (1824-), author of 
"Faith Gartney's Girlhood"; John G. Saxe (1816-1887), a 
humorous and satirical poet of the better class, author of "The 
Proud Miss McBride," and "The Rhyme of the Rail"; and 
George H. Boker (i 824-1890), a poet and a successful dram- 
atist, whose play of " Francesca di Rimini " was recently revived 
by Lawrence Barrett, the actor, and was received with popular 
favor. 



THE INNOVATORS. 241 



THE INNOVATORS. 

The period we have just been considering is an anomalous 
one, and should be regarded from the point of view of state 
rather than of time, including as it does writers and writings not 
of the first class, though contemporary with some that were so. 
The writers in question neither attained the highest excellence, 
nor did any of them indicate a new departure from established 
models and precedents. They were repetitions, on a minor 
scale, of what was in existence, or had existed. But, m due 
course, the hour arrived when a fresh element was to make itg 
appearance. 

This element presented itself under several outwardly differing 
forms, and can be credited to no particular person or event. Il 
was due to the natural progress of the mysterious law 
of growth which affects literature, science and society gjg^g^^^ 
alike, and is, after all, the real basis of progress. The 
nominal individuals who illustrate or express it are comparatively 
unimportant, though they will always and necessarily be associated 
with it : they are often arrayed . in seeming opposition to one 
another ; and occasionally one or other of them may chip the 
egg, as it were, some while before the ear of the world is attuned 
to hear him peep. Walt Whitman — to use an apposite example 
— pubhshed his " Leaves of Grass " in 1855 : but the public was 
not then in a mood seriously to consider his claims, and nearly 
twenty years passed before he was competently criticised. Bret 
Harte, on the contrary, raised his voice precisely at the right 
moment : he came so pat to the new dispensation that he was 
identified with it. Frank Stockton, again, though a Httle behind 
time in his arrival, should yet be included among the innovators. 



242 



AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 



We can judge of the importance of this departure by reflecting 
how impossible it would be to go back to the point at which it 
found us. The new writers themselves have not, perhaps, taught 
us much ; but, in one way or another, the literary world has 
accomplished a marked growth in the past twenty 
years. The old order changes, giving place to new. 
The great writers of the past are not, of course, 
superseded ; they are intrinsically absolute ; in advance of or aside 
from the general growth. But the general average of quality 
advances, and the work of the hack-writer becomes, in point of 
technique and handling, as good as that of the men of talent of a 
generation ago. 



The step we 
have taken. 



Francis Bret Harte (1839-) was born in Albany, New York, 
the son of a man of fine education, who taught school for a living. 
After leaving school, Harte, at the age of seventeen, journeyed to 
History of a California in quest of fortune. At first he followed in 
brilliant his father's footsteps as a school-teacher ; afterwards 
ipnovator. j^^ ^^^^ j^-^ ^^^^ -^^ ^j^^ mines ; later still he got a job 

as compositor in a printing-ofiflce ; and finally undertook the edit- 
ing of a local newspaper. From editing the contributions of other 

writers, he naturally proceeded to 
printing articles and sketches of his 
own ; and thus insensibly entered 
upon a literary career. In 1867 
he published a small volume of 
" Condensed Novels " — terse par- 
odies of the work of leading novel- 
ists of Europe and America. The 
following year he was connected 
with a famous California magazine, 
— " The Overland Monthly," — 
and in its pages were published the 
tales that made him speedily known 
to the English-speaking world as a 
Francis Bret Harte. ncw gcuius in literature. In 1870 




THE INNOVATORS. 243 

he came to Boston, and for a time was under contract with 
Fields, Osgood & Co., at a salary of ten thousand dollars a year, 
to write for "The Atlantic Monthly" exclusively. Ps. few years 
later he received an appointment as consul to Crefeld in Ger- 
many, but was subsequently transferred to the more lucrative post 
of Glasgow, in Scotland. He spent most of his time in London, 
and was a social favorite there : his writings have always had a 
large English market. He still lives in England, writing, at irregu- 
lar mtervals, stories and short novels, usually with a Californian 
background. 

Harte has strong and sympathetic powers of observation, keen 
dramatic instinct, ready humor and a point of view that is liberal 
to the limits of conventionality, or beyond them. The sudden 
change, while he was yet a boy, from the strictness and narrow- 
ness of his home surroundings, to the absolute lawlessness and 
irregularity of western life, produced a profound impression upon 
him, never to be effaced. His earliest essays in literature — con- 
ceived, probably, on hackneyed lines — were according to his 
own account unsuccessful : but he was not long in declaring his 
independence, though a flavor of Dickens is still occasionally per- 
ceptible in his work. But his essential separateness is indicated 
by the extraordinary accuracy with which, in the " Condensed 
Novels," he caught the very spirit of the style of thought and 
language of a dozen different writers. His own style, as finally 
formed, leaves little to be desired ; it is clear, flexible, virile, 
laconic and withal graceful. Its full meaning is given to every 
word, and occasionally, like all original masters of 
prose, he imparts into a familiar word a racier sig- Jj^s^sJo"^^* 
nificance than it had possessed before. His genius 
is nowhere more unmistakable than in the handling of his stories, 
which are terse to the point of severity, yet wholly adequate ; 
everything necessary to the matter in hand is told, but with 
an economy of word and phrase that betokens a powerful and 
radical conception. Nothing in his plots or characters is con- 
ventional ; they are aspects of genuine life, selected and seen 
with, surpassing skill and insight. No time is wasted in intro- 



244 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

ductions, explanations or analyses : the reader is conveyed at 
once to the centre of dramatic interest, and is kept there till 
the end. Character is his special quarry : he puts a human type 
before us in a few shaping strokes, and never afterwards lays on 
a touch amiss, or lapses into an inconsistency. But his brief 
descriptions of scenery and of action are vivid and comprehensive ; 
they interpret or enhance, but never delay or confuse the dramatic 
issue. His humor is subtle and contagious, though not always 
entirely legitimate ; he is too apt to poke fun at his char- 
acters — to archly and demurely comment upon their oddities 
and absurdities — instead of allowing them to work out their own 
comicality. This is a trick derived from Dickens, and not alto- 
gether a desirable one. 

The first success of Harte's stories was no doubt due in part 
to the novelty of the scenes and characters that he described. 
The men of '49 had left civiUzation behind them, and lived for 
several years in circumstances that brought to the surface the 
elemental good and evil of human nature. They took all laws into 
their own hands, and their only judge was Judge Lynch. They 
experienced alternately the extremes of poverty and affluence ; 
they worked and slept with danger and death for companions. 
Traces of a barbaric and capricious sort of chivalry occasionally 
were visible in them, side by side with remorseless cruelty and 
savage excesses. Men of education and good breeding mingled 
with men who had been ruffians from the cradle, and the former 
often proved themselves the greater ruffians of the two. Women 
were scarce in these wild camps, and they became not less reck- 
less and desperate than their mates. All this constituted splendid 
material for the romancer, and Harte showed his appreciation of 
it by depicting its characteristic phases precisely as they appeared 
to him. The squalid, the base, the wicked elements of the picture 
are presented with unflinching veracity : but he also sought out 
and reproduced the gleams of brightness in the dark — the nobility 
of self-abnegation, and the passion of love ; the fierce courage 
that faced death with a jest ; even the deUcate tact which some- 
times made lovely the manifestations of those rugged natures, as 



THE INNOVATORS. 245 

wild flowers soften the stem face of the rock. He portrayed, in 
short, the inextricable intertwining of good and evil in man ; so 
that the unspoken moral of all his stories is a deeper and more 
reverent charity. It was not a new message, but it was conveyed 
in a new voice, with fresh illustrations ; and it had its effect, not 
on literature only, but on the human heart. 

All this was done within the compass of some fifty printed 
pages. Harte's first half-dozen stories were his best, and they 
also contained the elements of everything of consequence that he 
has written since. His canvas was as narrow as it was brilliant. 
But it would be difficult to praise these half-dozen stories too 
highly. It is difficult to see how they would have been done 
better : as a matter of fact, nothing of the kind has ever been 
better done. " The Outcasts of Poker Flat " is so nearly perfect 
that criticism may be challenged to point out a sentence in it that 
could profitably be altered. It may be read in a few minutes, 
and not forgotten in a lifetime. ^'The Luck of Roaring Camp," 
"Higgles," "Tennessee's Partner," "Brown of Calavaras," "How 
Santa Clause came to Simpson's Bar," — these are scarcely inferior 
in conception and workmanship. No lesser word than genius 
describes such work as this : and lapse of time, nor competition, 
nor even less meritorious work of his own, can lessen Harte's 
renown for these achievements. 

It would have been well for him, indeed, had he never written 
anything else than those early stories. He had run his course, 
and thereafter he could only go over the same ground again with 
flagging energies and wavering purpose. The epic of the Argo- 
nauts was a great epic, but it could be sung effectively but once. 
The material was magnificent, but it was strictly hmited. And 
Harte's genius seems to have been competent to nothing else. 
The few tales of his whose background and characters were other 
than Cahfornian were comparative failures. Nor could he do so 
well on a larger scale than that of the short story. His novel 
of " Gabriel Conroy," of which much was hoped, turned out to 
be a mere succession of episodes, whose combination weakened 
instead of strengthening their general effect. His subsequent pro- 



246 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

ductions, though never destitute of value, have not the supreme 
merit of his first group. And the moral perversity of his charac- 
ters, which served but as artistic shadows in his briefer narratives, 
became predominant and painful in the longer works. 

Beside his prose writings, Harte is the author of a considerable 
body of poetry, scarcely less original in its character, and often 
powerful, dramatic and touching ; though much of it depends for 
its popularity upon eccentric and rather extravagant humor. The 
best-known example of the latter type is " The Heathen Chinee," 
composed in a whimsical moment, and inserted by the author to 
fill up an unfinished column. It instantly caught the fancy of the 
nation, and doubtless no poem of the generation is so widely 
known. Harte makes a free use of the California dialect in his 
verse, and may be regarded as the originator of a dialect poetry 
that has latterly attained so overwhelming a vogue. Lowell's 
" Biglow Papers," witty and clever though they were, never stimu- 
lated the imitation that has followed Harte. 

A volume of moderate dimensions will contain all that posterity 
is likely to preserve of Harte's work ; but the volume will stand 
on a level with the best literary product of the nation. 

Cincinnatus Hiner (<< Joaquin '') Miller (1841-). The 

mark of Harte's literary style is its maturity, self-poise and worldly 

sagacity ; that of Miller's is its almost childlike spontaneity and 

impetuous artlessness. Miller's temperament is essen- 

A sponta- tiallv passionate and juvenile : his intellect is under 
neous poet. ^ ^ ■' 

the dominion of his emotions : his thought is colored 

by his loves and hates. This coloring is always warm, and some- 
times gorgeous to the point of being barbaric. He has not Harte's 
distinctness and deliberation of touch ; he is always in movement, 
and his scenes and persons are enveloped in a vague and sump- 
tuous atmosphere. He cares little for form and outline in com- 
parison with quality and feeling. He is a born poet in his own 
region of poetry, though his genius was hampered by extraneous 
circumstances. 

Miller was born in Indiana, but accompanied his father to Ore- 



THE INNOVATORS. 247 

gon in 1853, and for a time worked on a farm there. Agriculture, 
however, was not to his taste, and schooHng probably still less so : 
his only education consisted in reading the few books that came 
in his way, among which a volume of Byron was his favorite. At 
the age of sixteen he left his home and went to Cahfornia, where 
he labored as a miner. A little later he formed one 
of the band of adventurers that followed Walker to ^iograpM- 
Nicaragua : and for a time he joined a tribe of Indians, 
and lived with them as one of themselves. After four years of a 
hazardous and romantic existence he found his way back to Oregon, 
and began, at the age of twenty, the study of law. But this in 
turn was thrown aside, and for a year he rode between the gold- 
districts of Idaho as express-messenger for the mining-camps. A 
Httle later he was editing a weekly newspaper: in 1866 he was 
elected judge in Eastern Oregon, and kept the bench for four 
years. It was at this epoch that he began to be known as a poet, 
though he had composed rhymes from an early period, and, hke 
Homer, had recited them to his frontier companions. But in 1870 
his " Songs of the Sierras " , were published in a volume, and 
attracted immediate notice both in this country and in England. 
So emphatic, indeed, was the English voice of approval, that Miller 
was encouraged to sail for Europe. 

His success in London, both literary and social, was phenome- 
nal. His books sold by thousands ; he was a welcome guest at the 
best houses, and he made many cordial and life-long friends. He 
was regarded as a characteristic American product, and was, per- 
haps, occasionally tempted humorously to indulge the fancy of his 
entertainers. But Miller was a genuine man and poet beneath all 
his affectations. Critics sought in his poetry for things that were 
not to be found there, and presently came to the conclusion that 
he lacked culture — a discovery that could hardly have surprised 
a man who had lived the Hfe of a frontiersman for 
thirty years, whose study had been the plains and the ^^.^^ ^^® 
mountains, and his easy-chair the saddle. His poetry 
showed the influence of Byron and of Swinburne, but his native 
genius, at its best, was too strong to be controlled by any master ; 



248 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the very ecstasy of the poetic gift is in many of his verses. Had 
he been more thoroughly educated, he might have done better 
or more even work ; but, on the other hand, academic learning 
might have robbed his productions of the wilding flavor that is one 
of their chief charms. Miller is one of the most picturesque and 
agreeable figures in our literature ; he fills a place of his own, 
and, with Harte, has given California a literary showing of which 
she has reason to be proud. 

Besides the volume already mentioned, he has published '' Songs 
of the Sunlands," "Songs of the Mexican Seas," "Songs of the 
Desert," "Songs of Italy." In prose he has written a romantic 
narrative, "The Modocs," "The One Fair Woman," "The Danites 
in the Sierras," and a play founded on the last-named work, called 
"The Danites." Miller, after his return from abroad, worked as a 
journalist in Washington and New York; but in 1887 he removed 
to Oakland in California, where he still lives. 

Henry James (1843-). There could hardly be a contrast 
greater than that between Henry James and the two authors just 
described. The differences include character, training", circum- 
stances and associations, as well as literary method and point of 
view. Yet James is an innovator not less than are Miller and 
Harte ; nay, his innovations are more radical, as they certainly are 
more deliberate and self-conscious than theirs. The history of 
his mental development is a history of gradual growth, determined 
A self- ^"^ certain directions by reflection and conscientious 

conscious judgment. He has always held himself securely in 
narrator. hand. His talent, though amounting at times to 
genius, never has carried him off his feet. He subjects it to his 
own pre-arranged purposes, without ever permitting it to lead 
or master him. From his earliest beginnings he has gone for- 
ward heedfully, step by step, taking daily observations of his 
position, like a careful mariner, trying now this course and now 
that, not whimsically nor recklessly, but with the serious resolve 
to reach the goal which seemed to him the properest and 
most expedient. Never arrogant nor headstrong, his mind is 



THE INNOVATORS. 249 

nevertheless intrepid and independent ; he reverences no master 
nor method, however conventionally or popularly exalted, that 
does not command his sheer intellectual respect. He criticises 
both himself and others in the driest light, without softness and 
without severity. He aims to reach the unbiassed truth, be it 
inviting or otherwise, and to follow his convictions as to what is 
right in literature, without concerning himself to inquire whether 
what is right is also popular and remunerative. James is a man 
of high intelligence, of fastidious culture, and of wide experience 
of civilized life ; and the results that he has attained are worthy of 
serious and respectful attention. 

Henry James was born in New York, the oldest of four 
brothers. His father wa§ a man of singular intellectual power, 
and gifted with rare faculty and force of literary expression ; but 
in point of style there is no resemblance between the 
father and the son. The latter's health was delicate, jjis^(,j.y 
and has never become robust ; he was educated at 
home by tutors, and never attended the university. While still 
a boy he was taken to Europe, and remained there several years. 
Returning home (to Boston), he was barely twenty when his first 
story was printed in "The Atlantic Monthly." It was in two 
numbers, and was an analysis of female character, conveyed in the 
form of extracts from the diary of the male character. It 
was a clever though not an exhilarating performance. It was 
followed by a novel, "Watch and Ward," in which analysis and 
comment are much more conspicuous than action or dialogue, 
but which showed solid literary qualities. There was never any 
question in James's mind as to what profession he should adopt. 
He was from the first determined upon literature. 

Though far from being a rich man, James had a small compe- 
tence, which enabled him to exist apart from the emoluments 
derived from his literary work, which, for the first fifteen years 
of his career, amounted practically to nothing. He wrote for the 
love of writing, winning the commendation of a few intelligent 
persons, but quite unknown to the general public. He frequendy 
visited Europe, living in France, Italy and London ; and by 



250 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

degrees his visits became longer, and his home-returns more brief. 
It was not until 1878 that the appearance of "The American" 
and "Daisy Miller" brought him into general notice. From that 
time he has obtained adequate remuneration for his books, which 
have first been printed serially in "The Century," "The Atlan- 
tic," " Harper's," and in some of the leading Enghsh magazines. 
"The Portrait of a Lady," "Princess Casamassima," "The Bos- 
tonians," and "The Tragedians " are names of his principal novels 
published since 1880. In 1878 appeared a collection of able 
criticisms of French writers, under the title of " French Poets and 
Novehsts." This volume established Mr. James's title to be con- 
sidered one of our keenest and most agreeable critics. 

The longest of Mr. James's earlier works is " Roderick Hudson," 

published in 187c; ; but a large number of his short 
An early ^ . , , \^ , • 1 

tendency stones has been collected m volumes under various 

toward titles. It is in these that the course of his develop- 

romance. . , i * r 1 • • 

ment is to be traced. Alter obtaining some mastery 

of the technical part of his profession, he showed a leaning 
towards romance in the conception of his stories. "The Ma- 
donna of the Future," for example, while keeping near reaHty on 
one side, is on the other fanciful and ideal. But the fine taste of 
the writer presently warned him that realistic characters should 
not be forced to work out an ideal destiny. It was necessary 
either to follow Hawthorne in idealizing both persons and plot, 
and so produce an artistic harmony, or else the stories must be 
made realistic throughout. Debating this alternation, he hung 
in the wind for a while ; but by degrees he turned towards the 
latter course, his choice being, perhaps, somewhat influenced by 
the novels of the great Russian, Turgeneff, and by the subtle 
example of the contemporary French school. 

It is not, however, in the "realism" of his characters, nor in 
the fidelity of his descriptions, nor in the conscientious minute- 
ness of his analysis of human motives that James is distinc- 
tively an innovator. These things are incidental merely, and 
have their source in his temperament and in the quality of his 
intellect. Still less can he be classified as the inventor of " the 



THE INNOVATORS. 251 

international novel " ; for though he has been the most noticeable 
exponent of such stories, and may have been the first to write 
such, their value and significance to him has been solely that a 
better basis was thereby afforded to emphasize distinctions of 
character and" environment. Americans and foreigners naturally 
criticise one another, and appear to one another in their differ- 
ences rather than in their similarities ; and in so far relieve the 
novelist who makes his story out of them from the necessity of 
analyzing them in his own person. The situation becomes fighter 
and more dramatic. But to suppose that national unfikenesses 
are, in themselves, interesting to James, is to misinterpret his 
position. His standpoint is purely the fiterary one : American 
and English are indifferent to him. 

No : James's real innovation, or invention, lies in the character 
of the narrative that he offers. Studying fife, diligently and atten- 
tively, he fafied to find in it the "stories" — the dramatic circle 
of events, beginning, culminating and ending — which have hitherto 
formed the basis of the work of fiction. Life appeared 

to him to flow on, without returning upon itself, with- ?^® ^^^\ 

' & 1 > innovation. 

out intelligible compensations or revenges, without 
poetic justice, without definite punishments or rewards. So far as 
might humanly be perceived, the designs of Providence — if there 
were a Providence — were too far-reaching and too general to fall 
within the scope of any human representation of life. The fife 
which fiction had been portraying was a sort of fairyland, or fools' 
paradise, having no actual or possible counterpart in the real world. 
Such tales were fit to amuse children, but not to interest mature 
minds. They might be pretty, or stirring, or absorbing, but they 
did not present the truth ; and fiction, of which the warp and woof 
were not truth was nothing. 

This being admitted, the question remained whether it were not 
possible to write fiction that was both true and readable ? — were 
not the intrinsic qualities of human beings, without reference to 
their dramatic interaction, or to any movement of destiny in which 
they might be arbitrarily involved, capable of being rendered 
interesting? If the noblest study of mankind were man, what 



252 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

need was there to force the bhnd current of events to assume the 
semblance of intelligent and sympathetic action ? Let us rather 
study man and his life as they are, and trust to the faithfulness of 
the picture to attract and hold the attention of the reader. 

The argument is certainly a plausible one. It does not deny 
the offices of art, but it changes the method and the direction in 
which art shall be applied ; we find in James's writings a sagacious 
and effective selection of types, and a further judicious selection 
of the traits by which they shall be presented. Whatever is 
essential to a full understanding is given ; the rest is omitted. The 

dialogue is carefully studied, but it is used not so 
stuT**^*^^ much to advance the plot — for there is no plot — as 

to elucidate character. The accessories and environ- 
ment are minutely described, when they are the result of human 
modification or construction ; but natural scenery is briefly treated, 
as having no vital reference to man. More weight is given to 
the mental states and impulses that result in action, than to the 
actions themselves, it being the former only that mould or express 
character. When the several characters, and their mutual rela- 
tions, have been adequately portrayed and accounted for, the 
narrative ceases. We may imagine them going through any sub- 
sequent adventures we choose : the novehst has given us data 
for predicting what they would do under any reasonable circum- 
stances ; and he conceives his office to be limited to that. Any- 
body can invent adventures : but only the artist and the student 
can give verisimilitude to representations of human character. 

Realizing the importance to his method of perfect technique, 
James has spared no pains to attain such perfection. His style 
has passed through several stages : we are not prepared to affirm 
that the latest is the best. But at its worst it is a fine instrument 

of expression, and at its best it has every beauty but 
His style. ^^^ ^^^^ highest. At times it is behttled by the intro- 
duction of French words and phraseology ; and it is never quite 
free from self-consciousness. It is rich in delicate refinements, 
to be appreciated only by those who know the difficulties of good 
English composition. It is solid with the results of wide reading 



THE INNOVATORS. 253 

of the best authors : not that James's writing contains definite 
allusions to his literary culture and reminiscences, as Lowell's 
does ; but we surmise it from the character of his diction, and 
from what he forbears to say. It is a pleasure to read him, for 
the sake of the intellectual allurements offered on each page ; 
but there is necessarily a deficiency of continuous interest in his 
volumes. 

James has wit, but not humor \ and sometimes he is beguiled 
into putting more wit into the conversations of his personages 
than probability would warrant; but that is a weakness easily 
forgiven. He sedulously refrains from favoritism in his attitude 
towards his characters : but in so refraining, he also gives the 
impression of a too coldly critical attitude, which jars upon the 
reader. His studies are made on a plan the opposite 
of that pursued by Shakespeare, and other great literary attitude. 
artists. He always approaches his subjects from with- 
out, instead of from within. Instead of identifying himself with 
them, and interpreting them by sympathy, he dissects them, or 
explains them by rule of thumb. Hereby he loses the cooperation 
of the reader, whose own imagination is not stimulated, but who 
stands coldly by, with no emotion warmer than that of critical 
curiosity. James makes every effort to do the whole work him- 
self ; but even when he succeeds, it is at the cost of power which 
might better have been utilized in some other way — as if a wood- 
man were to chop upwards, against the attraction of gravitation, 
instead of adding the weight of the planet to his axe. 

The value of James's theory of fiction must be judged in some 
measure by its results. He cannot be called an unsuccessful 
writer : he has won the admiration of a cultivated and thoughtful 
circle, and is one of the most widely known of our authors : 
but he has never been popular, and is not likely to 
become so. He has had many followers and imi- ^^^^^^ ^ 
tators ; but the best of them has not had a moiety 
of his merit. James, indeed, has made no pretence of founding 
a school of fiction, and it is quite possible that he writes as 
he does only because he finds that particular method the one 



254 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

best adapted to his own peculiar powers. Be that as it may, 
the method appears to be a barren one. It is ingenious and logi- 
cal ; but art is beyond logic. Men love story, because they are 
human beings. This is not the place to enter into a philosophical 
argument on the matter ; but proportion and compensation are 
laws of the mind, and they are necessary elements in every work 
of art. The story may exist either on the spiritual, or on the 
material level ; it may be a story of character, or of incident, or 
of the two harmonized ; but a story there must be. The sculptor 
and the painter recognize the obhgations of arrangement and 
balance of form and mass, of light, shade and color, and so should 
the poet and the novelist. Art does not seek to reproduce the 
universe, or fragmentary parts or phases of the universe : but 
epitomes in miniature thereof, organized on the principles that 
constitute the universal frame of things. The day dawns, brightens 
to noon, and darkens to dusk : the planets circle in their orbits : 
the seasons succeed one another, from spring to spring. Why shall 
there not be stories, with a beginning, a middle and an end? 
The measure of our craving for art is the measure of our sense 
of the shortcomings of hfe. If art were but the record of Hfe 
over again, there would be no reason for its existence. James 
fears to cut loose from observed fact. But fact is not final ; it 
is the mask of truth, and often a misleading one. The soul has 
certainties, compared with which the facts of existence are but 
shadows. 

William Dean Howells (183 7-). High imagination is not 
among Mr. Howells's literary gifts : in this respect he is inferior 
to James. But he has graceful fancy, playful humor, a pure and 
pleasing style and minute and accurate observation. There is a 
poetic vein in his temperament that is lacking in James, and that 
gives a grateful aroma to his writing. The artistic sense is not 
strongly developed in him; his stories are deficient in form, but 
are incidentally charming. His outlook on life is neither broad 
nor profound, but it is humane and gentle : and as a workman 
he is conscientious, and spares no pains to satisfy his ideal of 
perfection. 



THE INNOVATORS. 



255 




William Dean Howells. 



Howells was born in Ohio, and the first twenty years of his hfe 
were years of poverty and labor. He was a printer, a newspaper 
reporter and correspondent, an 
assistant editor, a campaign bi- 
ographer. As occasion served 
he indulged his literary in- 
stinct by writing poetry, and 
by picking up what he could of 
Latin, Greek, Italian, French 
and German. Heine became 
one of his early poetic models. 
At the age of twenty-two he 
pubhshed, in conjunction with 
J, J. Piatt, " Poems of Two 
Friends." Two years later, 
Lincoln gave him the appoint- 
ment of consul at Venice, which 

he held for the full term of four years. The fruit of this experience 
was two delightful books of travel, " Venetian Days " and " Italian 
Journeys." On his return he was for a few months employed in 
editorial work on "The Nation," a New York literary 
and political journal : but this was presently exchanged 
for the post of assistant editor of " The Atlantic Monthly " ; and in 
187 1, on the retirement of James T. Fields, Howells became editor- 
in-chief. He was then thirty-four years old. He retained this hon- 
orable position for ten years : and on resigning it was offered a 
lucrative engagement on " Harper's Magazine," which he still holds. 

Natural modesty, and the want of a thorough education in his 
youth, combined to make Howells distrustful of his own powers, 
and prone to be influenced by " masters," and to be guided by 
theories derived from his study of them. Theories are detrimental 
to the best literature, which has uniformly been the 
spontaneous outcome of temperament and intuition. ^^^^^^^ 
Howells set himself resolutely and systematically to 
learn his art. Beginning with light poetry, graceful but unim- 
portant, he next tried his hand, with marked success, at prose 



Biographical . 



256 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

descriptions of scenery and life. His first work in this direction is 
all but equal to his best. He has the painter's love of beauty and 
color, and the poet's felicity in reproducing them in words. His 
humorous perception, never mordant nor ill-natured, sweetens and 
brightens every page. A tender, and luminous atmosphere — one 
of the rarest and most valuable literary qualities — softens and 
elevates his pictures, while his study of detail is so accurate 
and yet so effortless that the reader discovers a new value in 
eyesight. His comments upon what he sees are just and acute ; 
and a gentle, unobtrusive personal tone permeates the composition, 
removing all stiffness and artificiality, and establishing the most 
agreeable relations of companionship. For first books, "Venetian 
Days " and " Itahan Journeys " are remarkable achievements. 

The pubUcation in 1871 of " Suburban Sketches " was a further 
success on the same fines. Howells was then fiving in Cambridge, 
near Boston, and he passes in review the quiet features of his 
existence with a lightness and felicity of handling, and a firmness 
and purity of style, that are scarcely susceptible of improvement. 
It may be questioned, indeed, whether Howells has ever done 
anything else so good as this. But he was ambitious of higher 
achievements, and in "Their Wedding Journey" he for the first 
time ventured on a slender vein of fiction. It is barely fiction : it 
balances on the verge of fact. The bulk of the little volume is 
taken up with a record of travel to Niagara : but various char- 
acters are incidentally introduced, names are given to them, and 
bits of dialogue are written out. There is no story ; and there is 
a certain timidity in the touch, as if the author felt he was making 
a perilous and rather audacious experiment. The reader, too, is 
inclined to think that it might have been as well to leave the 
fiction out. But Howells had crossed his little Rubicon, and must 
go on. " A Chance Acquaintance," while sufficiently faithful to 
real scenes to be used as a guide-book, belongs more distinctly 
to fiction ; the characters have more to say and to do, and the. 
story — to call it that — turns on a rather vulgar piece of snob- 
bishness perpetrated by an aristocratic young gentleman from 
Boston. The book leaves an unpleasant impression, and a doubt 



THE INNOVATORS. 257 

as to whether the author had justly estimated the character of his 
hero. 

Meanwhile, Hovvells had come under the influence of the 
Russian novelist, Turgeneff, and his next book, '^ A Foregone 
Conclusion," shows the effect of his study. It treats of the love 
of an Italian priest for an American girl, and of the 
tragic situation consequent upon such a passion. The ^^^^ ^^ 
theme is here dramatic, and the treatment is a great 
advance upon the combination of guide-book and fiction that had 
preceded it. As a story of character and passion, Mr. Howells 
has never surpassed this work. He has, since then, gained in 
solidity of style and technical elaboration ; but he has never come 
so near stirring the deeper sympathies of his readers. His later 
novels are, comparatively, artificial and conventional, and there 
is in them a fatal lack of distinction ; they are not so much demo- 
cratic as plebeian. The author retains his refinement, but his 
characters and incidents become vulgar and mean. 

This appears to be the result not so much of natural disposition 
as of conformity to theory. The theory in question has been 
provisionally entitled the theory of reahsm, though this name is 
in some respects misleading. The realist, in Howells's sense, 
should present life not as he thinks it ought to be, 
but as he thinks it is ; not as he imagines it, but ^f ^gaSm 
as he sees it. The exceptional in character and 
circumstance should be avoided : fiction should deal only with 
the average of men and events. Heroes, heroines and heroism 
are banished from the stage, and the loftier excursions of the 
soul are ignored, while its darker impulses are kept out of 
sight. The writer may observe as closely as his faculties allow, 
but he must be chary of reflections ; he is to submit data, 
but not to draw inferences. Inasmuch as the lives of the real 
persons of our acquaintance are seldom symmetrically rounded, 
and justice is often imperfect, the mimic existence presented by 
the noveHst must be fragmentary and inconsequent. 

Howells does his best to illustrate his own rules. He shows us 
average men and women in commonplace circumstances. Since 



258 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

all that can be scientifically known of persons is indicated by 
their words and acts, Howells shuns conjecture, or leaves it to 
the reader. But there is a fallacy here. Real conversation is 
constantly alien from real thought : and real acts are often pre- 
ceded by doubts and abortive impulses that are truer keys to 
character than the acts themselves. In other words, appearances 
are deceptive ; and the novelist who records appearances only, is 
misleading in direct proportion to his success. Moreover, the 
conventional man is such by reason of his avoidance of passion 
and eccentricity, which are the surest tests of character. Con- 
sequently, the more nearly man approaches the conventional, the 
more artificial is he, and the less genuine. Howells's cultivation 
of the conventional, therefore, leads him away from true realism, 
instead of towards it. 

With these restrictions, Howells is competent to the tasks he 
sets himself. His portrayals are sympathetic, humorous and faith- 
ful. But one feels that if he had followed his natural impulses in 
literature, instead of allowing himself to be swayed and perplexed 
by the example of writers in every sense so foreign to him as Tur- 
guenef, Tolstoi, Dostoiefsky and others, whose imperfections he 
mistakes for principles, and whose merits he cannot reproduce, 
he would have gained a reputation far higher and sounder than 

can be hoped for now. He is especially weak and 
His literary f^jiji^jg \^ literary judgment, but, as is often the case, 

where he is weakest he believes himself to be most 
strong. It is his misfortune to have been placed in a position 
where, as literary censor, his frailties run riot, and he is encouraged 
to confirm himself in errors which might otherwise be unnoticed 
or condoned. 

Since the publication of "A Foregone Conclusion," his principal 
works have been "The Lady of the Aroostook," "The Undis- 
covered Country," treating of spiritualism, the weakest of his pro- 
ductions ; "A Modern Instance," "The Rise of Silas Lapham," 
and " Indian Summer," a charming little story, the scene of which 
is laid in Italy. Besides these novels, he has written a number 
of light and witty parlor comedies — " The Register," " The Eleva- 



THE INNOVATORS. 



259 



tor," "The Mousetrap," et cetera; and a couple of volumes of 
travel and study, " Tuscan Cities " and " Modern Italian Poets." 
One feels inclined to say that Howells's literary faults are acquired, 
while his virtues are innate : and, would he but bestow his exqui- 
site workmanship upon some fitting theme, his place in American 
hterature would be not far from the top. ' 

Walt Whitman (1819-1892). Externally, if not in the deeper 
sense. Whitman belongs among the innovators ; but it is a ques- 
tion whether, when the shock of his grotesque style and still more 
grotesque "claims" is over, he 
may not turn out to be a compara- 
tively commonplace and imitative 
writer. Much of his apparent 
originality is certainly due to his 
remarkable ignorance ; he knows 
almost nothing of the thought and 
history of mankind ; and the coarse, 
primitive quality of his intellect 
renders him incapable of receiving 
cultivation. His egotism is at least 
commensurate with his ignorance ; 
and the world, startled by the mag- 
nitude of his pretensions, and per- 
plexed by the turgid and uncouth 
truculence of his diction, accepted him, for a time — and pend- 
ing further inquiry — at his own valuation. Not a few poets and 
scholars, especially in England, assumed his peculiarities to be 
due, not to dearth of educadon, but to conscious and voluntary 
conviction : they credited him with first knowing as much about 
literature and life as they did, and then heroically abjuring it all 
in obedience to a new light and inspiration. It is so unusual to 
find a man of Whitman's rough texture practising hterature, that 
one's first impulse is to interpret his clumsiness as a new form of 
genius. 

The matter is, however, complicated by the fact that Whitman 







Walt Whitman. 



260 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

really does possess certain strong and hearty qualities, and a fund 
of confidence in himself which in some degree answers for genius, 
since it prompts him to unrestrained and exhaustive expression. 
When a man acquires the habit of uttering everything that comes 
into his head, his head must indeed be empty if it does not occa- 
sionally furnish him with a good thing. Whitman's nature, physi- 
cal and gross though it is, is a harmonious one ; he has warm 
feelings and large sympathies ; and he is at times moved by a 
lyrical impulse that indicates the germs of poetic susceptibility. 
But his claim to credit for inventing a new poetic style, and 
establishing original principles in art, will not bear serious exam- 
ination. Previous to the publication of " Leaves of Grass " in 
1855, Whitman had attempted to write according to the ordinary 
rules, and had failed to attract notice, the reason being that he 

was incompetent, owing to deficiency of mental equip- 
First work. V , ^ '. „.^ , J. 1 1 r 
ment, to yield mtelligent obedience to the laws of 

composition, prose or metrical. Another man would thereupon 
have turned his attention to something else : but Whitman's rude 
vitality and self-esteem would not permit him to accept defeat ; 
so, since he could not use the instruments that had sufficed for 
Homer, Shakespeare and Tennyson, he bethought himself to 
decry these as effete and inadequate, and to bray forth his mes- 
sage upon a fog-horn. But even the fog-horn was not original ; 
it was the best imitation .that Whitman could devise of that sub- 
Hme organ that utters its majestic music in the Lamentations 
of Jeremiah and the prophecies and rhapsodies of Isaiah. So 
destitute was Whitman of the musical ear that he could not dis- 
tinguish between the lofty harmonies of the Old Testament, and 
that mixture of the double-shuffle and the limp, the stride and 
the break-down,, that he offers to us as the poetry of the future. 

William Blake, the English artist, mystic and poet of 
His revolt. , , , 1 ? , o • r 

the last century, had also gone to the Scriptures for 

his inspiration ; but he brought back gold and jewels, where 

Whitman could find only slag and tinsel. In proclaiming a revolt 

against the errors and prejudices of the past, he succeeded only 

in revolting against common sense, good taste and literary sanity. 



THE INNOVATORS. 261 

Instead of resonance, eloquence and the irregular but sublime 
rhythm of nature — of the cataract, the sea, the wind in the 
boughs of the primeval forest — he gives us the slang of the street, 
the patois and pigeon-English of the frontier and the bald vul- 
garity of the newspaper penny-a-Hner. In short, there is not one 
word to be said in defence of the medium through which Whitman 
declares himself. 

But good wares are sometimes found in vile wrappings ; let us 
see what manner of wares Whitman brings. He declares himself 
to be the spokesman and representative of the unrestricted Democ- 
racy : he is the brother of all men, the child of Nature, and the 
epitome of her qualities. He is everything, good and bad : for 
all men are one, nature is man inchoate ; right and wrong, morality 
and immorality, are but points of view, and modification of circum- 
stances. Is there anything original in this attitude? Surely not. 
It is at least as old as Brahminism and Buddhism : but one need 
go no further than to Emerson to find it all tersely and exquisitely 
stated in his poems, " Mithridates," " Guy " and " Brahma." The 
only novel feature in Whitman's case is, that he does not announce 
his philosophy abstractly, but thrusts himself forward by name, 
— "I — Walt Whitman " ; "I celebrate myself, and sing myself." 
In other words, he abandons all personal dignity and reserve, 
and sprawls incontinently before us in his own proper person. 
It is no wonder that an expedient so desperate should attract 
attention : so do the gambols of a bull in a china-shop. In old 
times, a sort of sanctity and reverence was associated with idiots, 
insane persons and the victims of hysteria and epilepsy. The 
nature of their affliction was not understood, and it was supposed 
that behavior so strange and abnormal as theirs must betoken some 
divine or superhuman agency. Analogous to this is the 
attitude of .many of Whitman's admirers and disciples ^^^^ ® 
to-day. They cannot persuade themselves that a man 
who acts so grotesquely should be anything less than inspired. If 
he cut his hair, dressed respectably, spoke in hexameters and in 
good grammar, they would not bestow a second thought upon 
him, though the " message " that he dehvered were precisely the 



262 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

same that it is now. It is not the minds of his audience that 
Whitman affects, but their eyes, ears and olfactories. It is the 
"barbaric yawp," not the philosophy of human brotherhood, that 
enchants them. They like him for his unlikeness to themselves 
— for the contrast of his frank grossness with their fastidiousness. 
On the other hand, people of Whitman's own social station and 
quality neither know nor care anything about him. He is the 
least popular, in the broad sense, of American writers. He is 
the fad — the pet — of the aristocracy of culture ; and when they 
have tired of him, he will be in danger of slipping out of sight 
altogether. 

We have maintained that Whitman's method is false, and that 
his philosophy comes some thousands of years too late to be called 
original : it remains to say that, be his philosophy new or old, his 
own writings (poems, chants, yawps, or whatever they be termed) 
are inconsistent with it. He is not a democrat : he is not broad : 
he is not free from prejudice. On the contrary, 

Not a repre- \{^^ xi\Q^i io^norant men, he is narrow, bigoted and 
sentative of . . , ^ , ., ,. . . . ^ ^ . 

democracy, provmcial. Like politicians in a canvass, his prin- 
ciples profess one thing, while his speeches express 
another. Whitman intimates that his egotism is only in appear- 
ance : that in reality he speaks impersonally : " what I assume, you 
shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to 
you." But, in truth, his egotism is the most real thing about him ; 
he portrays his own character and qualities, and no one else's : 
he celebrates not mankind, but Walt Whitman. Again, he pro- 
claims democracy and universality; but he really cares for and 
sympathizes with only a very limited class of persons, and that, 
one of the least representative of classes. He purports to be 
un-self-conscious and natural ; but his self-consciousness and arti- 
ficiality are painfully apparent in almost every line. He announces 
his independence of all forms ; yet he arbitrarily adheres to a form 
that is more laborious and cramping than the most elaborate verse. 
He boasts that, to him, nothing is unclean ; yet he extols many 
things solely because of their uncleanness. The final effort of his 
writings is not to strengthen our belief in the majestic unity of 



THE INNOVATORS. 263 

Creation, but to burden us with the barren tedium of a straitened, 
vulgar and self-conceited individuality. 

Nevertheless, as we have intimated, Whitman's product is not 
wholly without tolerable features. He is a human being ; he is an 
awkward, friendly, naive creature ; his craving for approbation is 
pathetic ; he possesses a slow, primitive sort of imagination ; and, 
once in a while, when his feelings are strongly affected (as on the 
occasion of the assassination of Lincoln) the very clumsiness and 
inertia of his mind operates to give a lyrical quality 
to his utterance. This poem, — " O Captain ! My poem in 
Captain ! " is a genuine and moving poem : but it conventional 
runs counter to every principle that Whitman has 
laid down as binding upon the poet. The lines are rhymed and 
regular, the theme is purely personal, the language is direct and 
simple and even the grammar is comparatively orthodox. Its fig; 
ures are imaginative, and its sentiment fervent, sincere and single. 
It gains much by contrast with the rest of Whitman's writings ; 
but it shows how much that would be worthy of attention and 
commendation he might have done, could he but have forgotten 
himself and his philosophy, and expressed in unaffected phraseology 
the kindly and spontaneous impulses of his heart and nature. It 
is only the emotional side of Whitman that could ever possess any 
value for literature : his thoughts are worthless. Searching through 
the repulsive wilderness of his pages, we not seldom stumble upon 
something that might have been worth preserving, had it not been 
distorted and degraded by perverse treatment. So we see little 
children in the slums of a city, in whose faces we discern germs of 
somewhat divine, though ihe squalid and ignorant conditions of 
their lives bar them out from all hope of use and beauty. 

The " Leaves of Grass," with its various additions and emenda- 
tions, represents Whitman's life-work. His war-record as a hos- 
pital nurse is embodied in " Drum-Taps " ; two prose works are 
entitled " Specimen Days and Collect " and " November Boughs." 
The details of his life are unimportant. He was born in West 
Hills, Long Island, attended school in Brooklyn, worked at print- 
ing and at carpentering, and served as a volunteer army-nurse 



264 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

during the war. In his later years he Hved at Camden, New Jersey, 
supported by the sale of his books, and by the contributions of his 
friends. 

Frank Richard Stockton (1834-). The literary domain of 
Stockton is almost as small as it is agreeable : but he is sole mon- 
arch of it. No one has even attempted to rival him on his own 
ground. He is a humorist, and he is thoroughly American ; but 
to describe him as an " American humorist " would be misleading. 
The quality of his fun is of his own individual inven- 
n onpna \\q^^ jt jg thg natural product of his personal tem- 
perament. It is never boisterous, nor irreverent, nor 
does it deal in exaggerations. It depends for much of its effect 
upon fine literary taste and handling. It quietly conducts the 
reader into a new world, and calmly introduces him to things 
which would be marvels anywhere else, but which are there com- 
monplaces of every-day occurrence, 

Stockton was born in Philadelphia. He was educated in the 
high school, and supplemented the instruction he got there with 
the reading of novels and story-books, and by writing poems and 
stories of his own. At his father's request, he learned the trade 
of wood-engraving ; but the chief practical use to which he put 
his accomplishment was to illustrate the tales and verses that he 
contributed to periodicals. His brother was editor of a news- 
paper, and Frank acted for a while as special correspondent, and 
afterwards as associate editor. Later, he was connected with 
*' Hearth and Home," and with " Scribner's Monthly " (the fore- 
runner of "The Centurv"), to which he contributed 
History. ' 

the first serial that brought him into notice, — " Rudder 

Grange." During several years he was assistant-editor of " St. 
Nicholas." At length a short tale appeared over his signature, 
with the title of "The Lady? or the Tiger?" It had a wide 
and instantaneous success, and has ever since been connected 
with Stockton's name, as is " The Heathen Chinee " with Bret 
Harte's. Since then, Stockton has written two or three long 
novels, and many short stories ; but it is upon the short stories of 
"The Lady? or the Tiger?" type that his reputation rests. 



THE INNOVATORS. 265 

One of the most characteristic of these short tales is called 
" Negative Gravity." We are introduced to an elderly gentleman 
and his wife taking a walk of fifteen miles, out and back, over 
rough ground, encumbered with a knapsack and a lunch- basket. 
This athletic feat they accomplish in the course of a few hours 
without the slightest effort. The reason is that the gentleman has 
invented a little machine, easily contained in his knap- 

* * N6fi*3.tiV6 

sack, which counteracts the attraction of gravitation; gravity." 
and by screwing it up the weight of the person who 
carries it can be diminished to any required figure, or made less 
than nothing at all. We are not told how the machine is con- 
structed : its construction is an accomplished fact before the story 
begins, and all we are required to do is to assist at the surprising, 
but perfecdy logical and inevitable results that its use and misuse 
bring about. 

'' The Adscititious Experiences of Mr. Amos Kilbright " is 
another captivatingly bewildering narrative. Mr. Kilbright, it 
appears, was drowned about a century ago ; but his great-grand- 
son happened the other day to attend a spiritualistic materializing 
seance, and requested to see the spirit of his legendary great- 
grandfather. The spirit of Amos appeared accord- 
ingly, and was materialized ; but by an oversight he ou^^done.^ 
was allowed to remain so long in that condition, that 
when the managers of the seance tried to dematerialize him, they 
found it impossible to do so. The perils, perplexities and entangle- 
ments of Mr. Kilbright's second earthly career are then seriously 
and sympathetically expounded and analyzed by the author, and 
are brought to a perfectly satisfactory issue. 

It is said that only an exceptionally sane mind can comprehend 
the vagaries of insanity. If that be the case, Stockton must be 
one of the sanest of American writers ; to read him is to see dis- 
solving around you the foundations and moorings of the actual 
world, and to find yourself in a world of fantasy, where impossi- 
bilities present themselves with unimpeachable correctness as 
admitted and inevitable facts. There is a cool, rational method 
perceptible aU through the crazy evolutions of the author's prog- 



266 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

ress : and there are touches of poetic beauty, gleams of human 
rnirth, breaths of true sentmient. The argument moves on blame- 
lessly from point to point, and we remember only by an effort that, 
like a fly on the ceiling, it is upside down, in defiance 
Logical ^|- j-^a^j-yj.^1 \2j^^ j^g^l genius is shown in the construc- 

tion of these Httle stories ; in the reticence, the sim- 
plicity and the neatness of the workmanship. Stockton has no 
axe to grind, and no moral to enforce ; his object is simply the 
reader's pleasure, and he generally brings it about. 

Among other short stories of his inditing are " The Remarkable 
Wreck of the Thomas Hyke," "The Transferred Ghost," "A 
Borrowed Month," " The Bee-Man of Orn." He has written 
some excellent novelettes, such as "The Casting Away of Mrs. 
Leeks and Mrs. Aleshine," and " The Great War Syndicate." His 
long novels are serious pieces of work, and have little to distinguish 
them from the average contemporary novel of the better class. 
"The Late Mrs. Null," and "The Hundredth Man," are the 
titles of the best two of them. But there is httle or nothing in 
them that would entitle the author to a place among the inno- 
vators. 



WRITERS OF r 0-DAY. 267 



XL 

WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 

We have now to consider the men and women whose writings 
constitute the substance of our current hterature. 

Most of these writers are still in the midst of their productive- 
ness ; and it would be unjust to pass any final verdict upon their 
work. Any one of them may yet write a book, a story or a poem 
which would modify the critic's judgment. The course that seems 
most expedient, therefore, is to classify them, so far as possible, 
according to the nature of their product, and to treat of each as 
briefly as may be consistent with explicitness. The great majority 
must, of course, be passed without mention : a mere list of con- 
temporary American authors would fill a volume. Nor is it desira- 
ble that the student should attempt to acquaint himself with the 
mass of books now publishing. Time, and the winnowing of criti- 
cism, will in due season cause the valuable residue to emerge, 
and it can then receive the attention that it merits. Meanwhile, 
there is more than enough material already tested and approved 
to occupy the most insatiable mind. 

The extent to which authorship is now followed as a profession 
is remarkable, especially in view of the obstacles with which, by 
general admission, it has to contend. The absence until this year 
(1891) of an international copyright law, subjected the native 
writer to the competition of foreign authors, whose books, being 
appropriated by American publishers without compen- 
sation, were published at prices almost nominal, thereby \^^l^^' 
shutting the higher-priced American books out of their America, 
own market. But for one circumstance, this foreign 
competition must have resulted in the total extinction of American 
authorship — except in the case of those writers whose independent 



268 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

means should enable them to publish their works at their own 
expense, and without hope of pecuniary returns. 

The circumstance referred to is the extraordinary multiplication 
of periodicals. Daily, weekly and bi-weekly papers, and monthly 
magazines and reviews, have increased to such an extent within 
the last fifteen or twenty years, that probably every American able 
to read is acquainted with at least one of them. It is in these 
periodicals that the productions of our writers make their first 
appearance. They are paid for at various rates — dependent 
upon the circulation and price of the periodical, and the reputa- 
tion of the author — and it is upon these payments, and not upon 
the royalties from the sale of their books in book- form, that the 
authors depend for their living. A first-class novelist, for exam- 
ple, will receive from three to ten thousand dollars for the serial 
use of a novel in such a magazine as '' The Century " or " Harper's," 
or in one or other of the great " newspaper syndicates " that have 
lately been established. This pays him for his work : the two or 
three hundred dollars that he may derive from royalties, at ten or 
fifteen per cent, on the book as afterward published at a dollar 
or more a copy, is regarded as extra money, and does not enter 
into his calculations. Inferior writers receive, of course, but a 
tithe of the sums above named ; but by rapid production, and by 
publication in two or more periodicals at the same time (perhaps 
under several pseudonyms) they contrive to exist. Meanwhile, 
the size of the reading public, and the habit of reading, constantly 
increase. 

Even these facts, however, fail to entirely account for the vast 
amount of books and articles that daily issue from the press. A 
large proportion of these must be entirely unremunerative ; and 
many others are brought forth at the author's expense. A mania 
for writing at all hazards seems to have taken possession of the 
community ; and when we consider that, according to trustworthy 
statistics, ten books are written for every one that is printed, it 
would seem as if comparatively few of our countrymen could be 
unconnected with authorship in some form. 

On the other hand, the increase in the number of really valuable 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 269 

books is probably very small : it would be a conservative estimate 
to say that one out of ten thousand will be heard of ten years 
hence, or that one in a million will survive a century. We may 
expect, therefore, that the fashion of universal authorship will 
presently cease. That for which there is no demand will not long 
continue to be supplied. The few really gifted authors will remain ; 
and then we may hope to witness the rise of a literature which 
shall be commensurate in quality with the greatness of the land 
that gives it birth. 

1. The Imaginative Group. 

The value of a literature is tested by the quality of its imagina- 
tive works. All works other than those of the imagination are of 
transitory interest, and, save as records, unimportant and unin- 
structive to any except the special and temporary demand that 
calls them forth. Imagination, however, enters as an 
element into many writings that are not technically J:^^ ^^^* °^ ^ 
or exclusively imaginative : as, for example. Bacon's 
Essays and Gibbon's Histories. Again, many books may be classed 
under the general title of imaginative, that have litde or no imag- 
ination in them, — as Tupper's " Proverbial Philosophy " and the 
novels of the Warner sisters. The present heading is designed 
to cover those works in American literature which are imaginative 
par excellence, both in name and quality, — that are, in other 
words nothing if not imaginative. 

Richard Henry Stoddard (1825-). No living American 
man of letters stands higher than Mr. Stoddard, or has devoted 
himself to letters more assiduously than he. The descendant of 
a New England sea- faring race, he was born in Massachusetts, in 
the house where his forefathers had lived. At ten years of age he 
came to New York, where he has resided ever since. He was 
educated at the public school, and has always been a poor man. 
In his youth, he worked in an iron-foundry. In 1853 he received 
an appointment in the New York Custom House, which he held 



270 . AMERICAN LIT ERA TURE. 

till 1870, when he accepted a position in the Dock Department 
under McClellan. Later, he filled the post of librarian in the 
public library. He is now, and has been for several years, literary 
reviewer for "The Mail and Express," a New York evening news- 
paper. 

From his boyhood he has been a poet. In 1880 a collected 
edition of his poems was published by the Scribners, in a hand- 
some volume of five hundred pages. Since then he has written 
other poems, many of them fully equal to his earlier ones. He 
recently published a small volume of verse under the title of " The 
Lion's Cub." His prose writings include hterary criticism and 
biographies. 

The characteristic of his poetry is high and lovely imagination. 
It is simple and severe m form, spontaneous in feeling : the 
poet never seeks for recondite subjects, but treats what he finds 
with such tenderness and depth of vision that common and fa- 
miliar things are found to be beautiful and wonderful. The un- 
adorned language that seems so artless is the result 
Qualities of ^^ j-esolute and sleepless self-discipline, suppressing 
and pruning the froth of passion and the frippery 
of sentiment, and welding and annealing the pure residue into the 
fabric of enduring art. In Stoddard the critic and the creator 
are united. Probably no living man rivals him in knowledge 
of ancient and modern poetry ; and this knowledge does not 
lie inert in his memory, but is incorporate in his thought, render- 
ing his naturally sound and wholesome taste next to infallible in 
questions of literary judgment. He has applied this taste to his 
own verse, leaving little for other critics of it to do. If anything, 
he has been too remorseless ; sometimes nothing but the naked 
conception seems to be left. Yet in his severity he never forgets 
beauty : he both remembers it and understands it, as his " Hymn 
to the Beautiful " sufficiently testifies. He finds it everywhere, 
and his words are transfigured with its spirit. 

No poet has written of nature more delightfully or from more 
loving observation than Stoddard. His pictures of it are more 
than accurate : they are bathed in a fairy atmosphere ; they inter- 



WRITERS OF TO-DA Y. 271 

pret the soul beneath the substance. Keats was one of his 
early masters, and his lines sometimes recall the English poet's 
sensuousness and color : but Stoddard's nature is more com- 
plex than Keats's, and he traverses regions that the latter never 
knew. He has had profound experience of the sadness as well 
as of the joy of life : of loss as well as of love. He 
has gazed at the great mysteries, and, if he has j^^ti^re" 
found them dark, he has made that darkness seem 
pregnant and sublime to those who follow him. He has felt 
and uttered homely pathos as only great writers have done. 
He has felt the tragedy of sin, and has spoken of it with manly 
and reverent charity : he has known the baseness of wrong, 
and it has drawn from him words of scorn and irony. In other 
moods, he sings songs that have the wild and careless music of a 
bird's song, yet always with the human note that brings it back to 
art. He has written gallant ballads of fiery romance and sweep- 
ing action, and he has indited noble poems in blank verse — the 
test of poets, which he sustains with honor. There is no recog- 
nized form of verse in which he is not accomplished, nor has any 
poet shown a wider range of sympathies than he. Some men who 
have written true poetry had to wait for the inspiration of a crisis 
of the soul ; but Stoddard finds poetry in all things. The daily 
breath of Hfe that he inhales comes forth from him again in har- 
mony. He is a poet to the marrow. He is never strange, remote 
nor fantastical, but a plain man among men, speaking in a tongue 
that all can understand, though it is touched with a fineness and a 
fire, a sweetness and a grace, that are the gift of poets only. 

Edmund Clarence Stedman (1833-). There is literature in 
Stedman's blood : his ancestors were cultivated people. He was 
born in Hartford, Connecticut, and attended Yale College. In his 
junior year he was suspended for overmuch vivacity : ^^ history. 
he took hold of Hfe at once, and by the time he was 
one and twenty he was married, and the editor of a newspaper. 
The next ten years were devoted to journahsm, and he lived a 
bohemian life. In 1861 he acted as war-correspondent of " The 



272 



AMERICAN LIT ERA TURE. 




Edmund Clarence Stedman 



Tribune." He had already published a small volume of poems. 
After the close of the war, he took the step, noteworthy for a 
literary man, of entering Wall Street as a banker and broker, 

with the avowed object of making 
money enough to enable him to 
write at his ease. He worked for 
ten years both as a business man 
and a poet, and was successful in 
both respects. He bought a hand- 
some house in the upper part of 
the city, and it became a literary 
centre. In 1883 he lost the bet- 
ter part of his wealth, but did not 
yield to misfortune. He set to 
work once more, and recovered 
his losses ; finding opportunity, 
meanwhile, to publish two works 
of criticism, on "The Victorian 
Poets" and on "Poets of America." Among his own poetical 
productions are "The Diamond Wedding," "Bohemia," "Old 
John Brown," "Pan in Wall Street," "The Heart of New Eng- 
land," " Gettysburg," " Laura, My Darling " and " Hawthorne." 

Stedman has a vivid, energetic and social nature. He has 
quick and ardent sympathies, is alive at all points, is a man of the 
world, and withal an optimist. He is sagacious and cordial, 
always ready to help, encourage and advise the younger genera- 
tion of hterary men. He also dehghts in the acquaintance of 
men in lines of Hfe totally distinct from his own. He is opinion- 
ated, confident and voluble, but his conversation is witty, solid 
and instructive. He is tireless and conscientious in labor, and 
his cheerfulness is constant and contagious. His mind is broad 
and hospitable, his critical taste fastidious, but generous. His 
scholarship is exceptional, and his knowledge of hterature wide 
and accurate. 

Whatever there is in Stedman leaps forth, and is at his fingers' 
tips. He has the impulse to express all that he feels or knows. 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 273 

His literary ability is conspicuous, and he takes the same pleasure 
in it that his readers do. His poetry is at once easy and polished ; 
his prose is lucid and elegant. The fibre of his work is fine and 
strong, nor is it lacking in color and picturesqueness. It is emi- 
nently sane, bright and sensible ; it is expressive rather than pro- 
found, and ardent rather than passionate. It does not tamper 
with mysteries and enigmas ; its fulness leaves little to the rniagi- 
nation, and it is more graceful and cultivated than imaginative. 
The poet is too intellectual ever to quite forget himself; he can 
be almost everything but un- self-conscious. But a charming vein 
of manly good-fellowship runs through his verse ; it has almost 
the freedom and directness of talk, yet it is constructed with the 
most precise attention to art, form and beauty. Sted- 
man never writes a careless or slovenly line, though author^ * ^ 
he may occasionally write prose in metrical form. 
He has written nothing that is not agreeable reading — rich, 
witty, light, strong, various. Some of his pieces stir the pulse 
like spiritual music; some, like "John Brown," have a vigorous, 
homely strength ; some, like the " Diamond Wedding," show 
fine powers of satire combined with thoughtfulness. The poem 
of " Hawthorne " is noble and eloquent, and reaches an exalted 
level of criticism. Stedman has a lofty ideal of poetry : he 
recognizes the best, and can describe it, and all but write it. 
Some of his idyls are models of sincerity and picturesqueness : 
he is impressionable, and can convey his impressions. In such 
a poem as " The Heart of New England," on the other hand, he 
is austere, elevated and forcible. He is versatile without being 
shallow, and rapid but not heedless. 

His two volumes of prose criticism are valuable for their infor- 
mation, broad scope and catholic judgment. In conjunction 
with Miss Hutchinson, he has just completed, in ten large volumes, 
a comprehensive survey of American literature, embodying extracts 
from the works of the majority of known American authors, from 
the earhest to the latest. It is a most useful compilation for the 
student, and for reference. He is still in the prime of his powers 
and of his activity. 



274 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 




Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 



Thomas Bailey Aldrich (183 7-) was born in Portsmouth, 
New Hampshire. His father had business in New Orleans, and 
the boy occasionally visited him there. After an ordinary school 

education, tempered by desultory 
reading, and many boyish pranks, 
he began his working life as a 
book-keeper. But such a career 
was distasteful to him, and he 
abandoned it for journalism and 
other literary labors. After the 
publication of several volumes of 
prose and poetry, he succeeded 
Howells, in 1880, as editor of 
"The Atlantic Monthly," and held 
that position for more than ten 
years. 

Aldrich is first of all a wit. Both 
in conversation and in writing he 
is inveterately brilliant. He is fond of refined pracdcal jokes, 
and has achieved the unique feat of perpetrating several excellent 
ones in his stories. " Marjorie Daw " is the best known of these 
"sells"; it is managed with consummate and re- 
morseless art. All of Aldrich's stories and novels are 
clever, and an unsuspected trap lurks in almost all of 
them. They are masterly litde structures, charming to read, but 
without much to anchor them in the memory. The most widely 
popular of his books is probably his "Story of a Bad Boy," 
which is autobiographical, and contains a great deal of fun, and 
not a little admirable description. His notes of travel are also 
graphic and amusing. 

Delicate and nimble fancy is the characteristic of his poetry. 
It is exquisitely polished, pointed and finished : it 
is fine and graceful as the arrows and arabesques of 
frost on a window-pane. There is often an excellent 
felicity of expression, and a subtlety in the thing expressed, that 
give acute pleasure to the reader. But Aldrich is a thoroughly 



His literary 
jokes. 



A delicate 
poet. 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 275 

artificial poet ; his aim is to produce an effect \ if, incidentally, 
he utters truth or wisdom, so much the better. He never opens 
his heart or his life ; none of his poems are sincere self-revela- 
tions. There is nothing vital in them. Aldrich is obserVant, 
Hterary and ingenious; he plays tricks with his intellect; he 
uses words and ideas as a woman uses silks in embroidery. 
Many of his best poems are short, embodying an apothegm, a 
paradox or an epigram. His sentiment recalls the compliments 
of an eighteenth-century exquisite : his pathos and emotion are 
masterly imitations, filed and fashioned with the nicest assiduity, 
as in the "Baby Bell." His narrative poems are not interesting. 
At his best, he surpasses his favorite Herrick in daintiness and 
finish ; but he lacks Herrick's naive feehng and power of putting 
his true self into his work. But after all is said, he is a finished 
literary workman, and has given the public nothing that was not 
as nearly perfect as his best pains could make it. 

Coates Kinney (1826-). It was in 1849 that Kinney pub- 
lished a poem — "The Rain upon the Roof" — that became a 
favorite all over the country. He forbore to follow up his success, 
and persisted in his forbearance until 1887, when his "Lyrics of 
the Ideal and the Real " were printed. They contain poems, 
mostly short, on a variety of subjects. But the opening poem, 
" Pessim and Optim," is a long one, and a striking production. 
It is both philosophic and imaginative, original and profound. 
It is a stronger conception than Tennyson's well-known "Two 
Voices," but less smooth in execution : it reveals a mind of 
a high and rare type. Kinney is direct and often rugged in 
expression, but his virility, earnestness and scope are entirely 
exceptional. Of all the poems written about children, few 
come so straight from the heart, or go to it more surely, than 
the four verses called "Threnody," on the death of a little 
boy. "The Haunting Voice," written in 1856, is but a brief 
lyric, but it portrays in unforgetable words one whole dark phase 
of human experience. " Consummation " contains several pas- 
sages of subhme imagery. In " The Shepherd of the Advent/' in 



276 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



unrhymed stanzas, a splendid picture is powerfully drawn. Kinney 
has been the least voluble of our poets, but he has shown quaUties 
that mio;ht entitle hnn to rank with the best of them. 



Sydney Lanier (i 842-1881) was born at Macon, Georgia. 
He was a college graduate, a soldier in the Confederate army, a 
lawyer, an invalid, a musician and a poet. He travelled to Texas 
and elsewhere in quest of health, and much of his work was done 
on a sick-bed. For a time he supported himself by playing the 
flute at concerts in Baltimore : he was accounted one of the best 

living performers on that instru- 
ment : he also delivered lectures 
at Johns Hopkins University and 
at the Peabody Institute. In ad- 
dition to his poems (which were 
not collected in a volume until 
after his death) he wrote a novel, 
"Tiger Lilies," and several books 
for boys. He was a man of genius, 
and lived a life of heroic struggle 
against poverty and death. He 
was deeply loved by those who 
knew him. 

One of Lanier's most original 
works was a treatise on " The 
Science of English Verse," which portrays his conception of the 
nature of poetry, and of the method of producing it. It is a lucid 
and exhaustive study. His theory rests upon the assumption that, 
in poetry, the appeal is in all cases to the ear. The fundamental 
principles of music and of verse are discussed, and 
artTs?. ^\\€\x relation pointed out. Many of his own poems 

illustrate his thesis, and " The Song of the Chatta- 
hoochee " marries sound to sense somewhat after the manner of 
Tennyson's " Brook." Lanier had an affluent imagination, and 
abundant art : indeed, his sensitiveness to artistic rules sometimes 
gave a too conscious air to his productions. He was enthusi- 




Sydney Lanier. 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY, 211 

astic, passionate and ambitious ; but his life was too short for the 
mature development of his genius. Among his best poems are 
"The Stirrup-Cup," "From this Hundred-Terraced Height" 
(a cantata sung at the Centennial), "The Marshes of Glynn," 
" Corn," " Sunrise " and "The Symphony." 

Fitz-James O^Brien (1828-1862) was born in County Lim- 
erick, Ireland ; was educated at Dublin University, and at twenty- 
one years of age went to London with his inheritance of forty 
thousand dollars, and spent it all in two years. In 1852 he sailed 
for New York, and the next and last ten years of his life were spent 
in America. He was shot in a skirmish on the 26th of February, 
and died five weeks later, at the age of thirty-four. 

O'Brien was personally interesting and fascinating to a high 
degree. He had the passionate, wayward, variable Celtic tempera- 
ment. He was, by turns, reckless and tractable, fierce and gentle, 
defiant and affectionate. He had exquisite poetic sensibihty, 
a mind rich with scholarship and with experience of life, and a 
towering imagination. His intellectual energy was surprising; 
some of his best work was done at a sitting. His habits were 
irregular, thriftless and extravagant. He was proud 
and independent, and would never accept aid in „^j^^ 
extremity ; but he was generous without Hmit. His 
moods were changeable, from wild gaiety to saturnine gloom. 
His literary genius was extraordinary. 

O'Brien wrote much, though in a fitful manner : when he had 
made money enough to meet his present needs, he would write 
no more until it was spent. None of his productions are long ; 
poems, sketches, dramatic criticisms and stories were poured forth 
promiscuously, and were printed in " Harper's Magazine " and 
" Weekly," in " The Atlantic Monthly," in " Putnam's," and in 
various newspapers. In some respects he resembled Poe, who 
also had Irish blood in his veins : some of his stories are hke Poe's 
in conception and style ; but the workmanship is not so sustained 
in excellence, while, on the other hand, they are more highly 
colored and emotional, and convey a stronger impression of the 



278 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

personal element. He was most prolific during the three years 
from 1855 to 1857 inclusive. Several of his tales were not pub- 
lished until after his death. A collection of some of his best 
stories was brought forth in 1885 by the Scribners, with a preface 
by William Winter. It was called "The Diamond Lens, and 
Other Stories." 

" The Diamond Lens " first appeared in '' The Atlantic " in 1858. 
It is a tale of unrestrained imagination, and of absorbing interest. 
A microscopist, under the guidance of a deceased man of science, 
with whom he communicates through a spirit medium, constructs 
a lens out of a large diamond, which he obtains by murdering its 
owner. Having focused the lens upon a drop of water, he 
discerns, in an infinitesimal globule (which has the appearance of 
a vast, fairy-like region) an exquisitely beautiful living female figure. 
He falls passionately in love with her ; but the manifest impossi- 
bility of holding any communication with her drives him to frenzy ; 
and at the crisis of events, the drop of water evaporates, and he 
sees the lovely maiden expire before his eyes. 

" The Wondersmith," published in "The Atlantic" the following 
year, tells how an evil-disposed gypsy succeeds in animating with 
diabolic souls the wooden bodies of innumerable little toy mani- 
kins that he has manufactured, with intent to sell them during the 
winter holidays, and cause the death of all the Christian children 
who receive them as presents. In "What Was It? " we are intro- 
duced to a unique conception of horror. A monster, invisible to 
the eye, but palpable to the touch, attacks a man in his chamber, 
and they engage in a deadly struggle. The story is told in detail, 
with immense spirit and verisimilitude. The author makes the 
artistic mistake of having a cast made of the terrible creature, so 
that its form is finally revealed in all its hideousness ; but no actual 
hideousness could rival the imaginative horror that would have 
remained in the reader's mind had the invisibihty been maintained. 

"The Lost Room" is a conception of wild mystery; and "My 
Wife's Tempter " is a fiercely dramatic tale of Mormon intrigue. 
Among his poems are "The Zouaves," "A Falling Star," written 
in a night ; "The Sewing Bird," produced in two sittings ; and "The 
Lost Steamship." 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 279 

John Boyle O^Reilly (1844-1891) was, like O'Brien, an 
Irishman by birth, and like him came to this country when a 
young man. He held a commission in the English army; but 
becoming involved in political intrigues, he was tried and sen- 
tenced to transportation. The story of his early adventures is 
stirring : he finally escaped and succeeded in getting on board 
an American vessel. O'Reilly was a poet; he was passionately 
devoted to the political emancipation of his native country, but 
was not the less staunch and hearty in his allegiance to the coun- 
try of his adoption. He was, at the time of his early death, and 
for many years previous, editor of the "Boston Pilot." He pub- 
lished a narrative of some of his adventures, and several volumes 
of poems, of which that entitled "In Bohemia" is perhaps the 
best known. His poetry is warm, vigorous, and straightforward, 
and often contains deep thoughts nobly uttered. But those who 
knew him personally found more in his conversation than he 
ever succeeded in expressing with the pen. His character was 
simple, cordial and magnanimous, and few men among our con- 
temporary writers have been the object of more ardent personal 
affection than he. An adequate biography of O'Reilly has not 
yet been written. 

Richard Watson Gilder (184.3-) is a poet. His aim is spirit- 
ual : he is a mystic of the Dante school. He writes of love, but 
in a symbol : his theme is the soul. He is never quite sublime, 
seldom entirely masculine; but he is subtle, elo- 
quent, felicitous and artistic. He has had a glimpse ™ystic 
of the mystic secret, — the unity of the Universe, — 
and he expresses his vision in delicate music. The finish of his 
verse is almost excessive : a touch of rude strength would be a 
relief; yet purity, melody and elevation are worth much. His 
best things will always be caviare to the general. He has pub- 
lished "The Celestial Passion," "The New Day" and "Lyrics," 
besides other poems. Gilder has been for ten years the editor 
of "The Century Magazine." 

Julian Hawthorne (1846-) was born in Boston, but accom- 



280 AMERICAN LITER A TURE. 

panied his father to England in 1853; and though his school and 
college days were passed in this country, he has lived, first and 
last, seventeen years abroad. He began independent life as a 
civil engineer, in the New York Dock Department; but on being 
"rotated" out of office in 1872, he took up literature as a pro- 
fession. 

Julian Hawthorne has been a copious writer, but the bulk of 
his production is in magazines and newspapers. He is at his 
best in the imaginative vein; and such stories as "Bressant," 
"Idolatry," "Archibald Malmaison," "The Peari-Shell Neck- 
lace " and "Sinfire," indicate powers in the writer which, if con- 
scientiously and carefully employed, might produce good results. 
Hawthorne's longer novels are "Garth," "Sebastian Strome," 
"Fortune's Fool" and "Dust." One of his most useful works 
is a biography, in two volumes, of " Nathaniel Hawthorne and 
his Wife." A book of German sketches, entitled "Saxon 
Studies," was the fruit of a four years' residence in Dresden. 

Harriet Prescott Spofford (1835-) was born in Maine. Her 
early writings were of great imaginative promise, which has not 
been sustained by her later w^ork. "The Amber Gods " overflows 
with romantic ideas and gorgeous imagery — the work of a poet of 
Oriental temperament writing in melodious and passionate prose. 
Her style in these earlier stories was full of rich suggestiveness, 
so that the reader seemed to apprehend more than met the eye. 
Later in life, Mrs. Spofford fell to writing short love stories; 
they were commendably executed, but lacked distinction. She 
has never repeated the irregular charm of "Sir Rohan's Ghost," 
"Azarian" and the other volume above mentioned. The conven- 
tional requirements of "family periodicals" have stifled her 
genius. 

Emma Lazarus (i 849-1 887) was a woman of the Hebrew 
faith, of great sweetness and depth of character, and of lofty 
imaginative genius. She made it her theme and mission to 
appeal through the medium of verse to the highest instincts of 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 281 

her race, to recall to them their sublime history, and to fore- 
shadow a glorious future. The bulk of her writings was not 
great; but before she died she was recognized as a poet of the 
first rank. It is a loss to our literature that such a Daughter in 
Israel as Emma Lazarus should have departed so early. 

Lafcadio Hearn (1850-) is of recent date as a writer, but his 
"Stray Leaves from Strange Literature," his "Chinese Ghosts," 
his stories and his sketches of travel indicate an ardently imagi- 
native temperament, which may yet produce work of a high class. 
He was born in one of the Ionian Isles, his father being an 
Ionian and his mother a Greek : his home has for many years 
been in the South. Celia Thaxter (1836-), Edith Thomas 
(1857-), Alice Gary ( 1820-187 1) and Phoebe Gary (1824-187 1) 
have written graceful and picturesque verse. 

Analytic Novelists. 

As the bulk of literature- and the number of authors increase, 
the tendency to follow special lines becomes more marked. In 
a country so large as this, and characterized by so many different 
interests and modes of existence, novelists, as well as other 
writers, will be found devoting themselves more and more to 
particular aspects and veins of life. At present, we often see 
one writer active in more than one direction; but, as competi- 
tion develops, this may be expected to become rare. In this 
classification we shall place authors on the basis of their more 
notable and characteristic works. The analytic novelists take 
their cue from James and Howells. I'hey go behind action, 
and endeavor to explain its motive — thus taking their stand at 
once in the mental and in the material sphere. Their method 
is the opposite of that of Walter Scott, Dickens and Thackeray. 
It is open to the abuse of rendering the narrative too turgid 
and uneventful, and of entering too deeply into metaphysical 
sophistries. Discreetly employed, however, it gives substance 
to the story, and broadens our conception of the characters. 



282 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Edgar Fawcett (184 7-) was born in New York, and has a 
familiarity with the phases of life in that city which recalls 
Balzac's knowledge of Paris. He is experienced in all kinds 
of literary work, from literary criticism to play-writing; he is 
diligent, and bestows pains on all he does. No American writer 
has improved more steadily than he. He has been an especial 
student of style, and in his earlier productions he reflected the 
methods of composition of several different authors. The pos- 
session of a strong poetic gift assisted him in refining his lan- 
guage, and he can now use this instrument as skil- 
novelTst^^'^ fully as any writer before the public. In his point 
of view as a novelist, he has been to a great extent 
influenced by the example of Henry James; but he differs from 
James in that his plots are uniformly strongly dramatic, and put 
together with a deftness and point that remind one of the 
modern French novel. His portrayal of character is distinct 
and vivid. Fawcett has always been sensitive to impressions: 
and this sensitiveness, which, while he was new to his calling, 
and had not acquired the art of curbing his utterance, was the 
source of most of his faults, has since become the cause of his 
best effects. Ten or fifteen years ago, the emotion in his stories 
was too hysterical; his episodes were too violent; he described 
too minutely and constantly. But that quality which had con- 
trolled him, he at last controlled, and it has served him well. 
His episodes are temperately handled, yet intrinsically powerful : 
his perception of shades of character is delicate; his manner of 
portrayal felicitous. He can enter sympathetically into the most 
diverse natures, and shed light upon their structure and develop- 
ment. His faculty of observation is exceptional, and he still 
needs to broaden rather than to sharpen his gaze — to see things 
less in detail and more in the mass. 

One of Fawcett 's best novels of contemporary life is "The 
House at High-Bridge"; in quite another style is his weird, 
imaginative tale of "Douglas Duane," in which a quasi-scientific 
miracle of transferred life is described. His volume of "Social 
Silhouettes" of New York character shows wdde knowledge of 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 283 

the subject, and satiric power. In addition to his many novels, 
he has written two vokniies of poetry, "Song and Story," and 
"Romance and Revery," which inchide some excellent narrative 
poems, several impassioned lyrics, and a number of good son- 
nets. All are done in the modern manner, but are stronger in 
imagination than is most contemporary verse. 

George Parsons Lathrop (185 1-) was born of American 
parents in the Sandwich Islands, and has lived several years in 
Europe; but his literary life has been spent in New York and 
Boston, He is of a poetic and imaginative temperament, and 
has written delicate and beautiful poems, and some that are 
strong and ringing. His best novels deal in psychological 
analysis: the most widely known is "An Echo of Passion," a 
powerful and moving story. Other stories of his are " In the 
Distance," where the scene is among the New England hills; 
"Newport," which pictures life at the fashionable watering-place; 
and "Would you Kill Him?" containing an admirable descrip- 
tion of a panic on Wall Street. But it is evident that Lathrop 
has much yet in reserve : it is likely that he will live to produce 
something which will throw into the shade his former efforts, 
honorable though they are. Besides his poems and novels, 
Lathrop constructed a play in blank verse, "Elaine," which was 
successfully enacted at the Madison Square Theatre in New York. 

Sarah Orne Jewett (1849-) is a New Englander by birth; 
and her stories depict the quiet phases of New England life. 
She has a delicate and quiet vein of genius, which was apparent 
in her first book, "Deephaven," and has been perfected by 
experience. She contemplates nature and humanity with a see- 
ing eye, and describes them with a firm restraint of touch. Her 
little narratives are like reflections in a Claude-Lorraine mirror 
— truthful, harmonious, artistic. The thread of plot is slight, 
but pleasing : the charm is in the refinement and subtlety of the 
telling. Some of her most delightful work is in the volume 
called "A White Heron." She is a tender, serene and culti- 



284 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

vated writer. She can scarcely be termed analytic; her touch in 
that direction is very light; but she gives more attention to the 
mental and moral idiosyncrasies of her characters than to their 
physical manifestations. 

Philander Deming (1829-) somewhat resembles Miss Jewett 
in his style and choice of subjects. He gives a quiet and sym- 
pathetic picture of quiet and retired lives, and of their environ- 
ment. Nothing is strained or over-colored: the touches are 
delicate but truthful, and every touch tells. The moral ideal of 
the author is pure and high, and there is a lovely artistic com- 
pleteness in each tale. Deming has written very little; but such 
stories as "Lida Ann" and "Tompkins" make up for quantity 
by quality. 

Constance Fenimore Woolson (i 845-1 894) began twenty 
years ago to contribute short stories to " Appleton's Journal " and 
other periodicals; and more recently gained deserved reputation 
by her novels " Anne " and "For the Major." F. J. Stimson 
("J. S. of Dale") (1855-) is the author of several stories which 
show fine literary taste and ability; and Arthur Sherburne 
Hardy (1847-), in " But yet a Woman," has presented a touching 
story of a woman's life and love, told with a reserve and an 
insight that evince a sincere literary gift. 

Romantic Novelists. 

Under this head we group those writers who seek to convey 
their effects by means of the drift and situations of the story, 
rather than by the development and analysis of character. In 
the best novels of this class, the characters and the plot are so 
well harmonized that the unfolding of the one is the unfolding of 
both; in the least successful, the characters are mere pegs on 
which the story hangs. Books of the former division approxi- 
mate to the analytic group : those of the latter merge into the 
merely sensational. But some of the most deservedly popular 
novels in the world have been written by romantic novelists. 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 



285 




Helen Hunt Jackson. 



Helen Hunt Jackson ("H. H.") (1831-1885). It was only 
in the latter years of her life that Mrs. Jackson became a novel- 
ist. Her earlier product was in 
the form of poetry. She thought 
deeply and with a kind of exalted 
logic on spiritual questions, and 
expounded her conclusions in 
concise and weighty verse. Beauty 
and passion were not her chief 
objects; she wished to state clearly 
the issue of the conflict between 
the human and the divine in 
nature. She had not Emerson's 
sublime vision, but her aim was 
similar to his: and in his "Par- 
nassus " he cordially recognizes 
her success. She studied the 
trials and temptations of life as problems, and formulated the 
solutions in grave and eloquent rhyme. 

But the winning and humorous side of her character appeared 
in her prose descriptions of travel and phases of existence, col- 
lected under the title of "Bits of Travel." It would attractive 
be difficult to speak too highly of the style and spirit "Bits of 
of these narrations. The humor is all-pervading, travel." 
and carries pathos with it : a lovely, human light irradiates the 
pages, and makes the foibles of the characters as charming as 
their virtues. A broad, charitable, human mind is at work, with 
the delicate insight of a woman, and a steady healthfulness of 
mood that we are more accustomed to expect from the masculine 
genius. 

Several volumes of a character more or less similar to "Bits of 
Travel " had been put forth, when, towards the close of her life, 
circumstances drew Mrs. Jackson's attention to the wrongs 
inflicted by the agents of our government upon the Indians. She 
made an earnest and exhaustive study of the situation, and her 
sympathies became passionately enlisted. The same hatred of 



286 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

injustice and enthusiasm for right that actuated the American 
colonies in their revolt against English oppression, and the 
Abolitionists of New England in their crusade against the prin- 
ciple of slavery, now aroused Mrs. Jackson to become the cham- 
pion of the Indians. Her whole heart and soul were 
"A Century devoted to their cause; and the seeds of fatal disease 
Qj. ,, apparent in her constitution served only to hasten her 

action and intensify her zeal. The first literary re- 
sult was the publication of "A Century of Dishonor," in which 
an impassioned appeal is made from the base and selfish to the 
nobler altruistic sentiment of the nation: the wrongs of the 
Indians are eloquently and vehemently set forth, and a ringing 
demand made for humanity and justice. But Mrs. Jackson 
recognized that in order to reach the mass of the people, it 
would be necessary to cast her ideas in the form of fiction; and 
accordingly, no sooner was "A Century of Dishonor " published, 
than she set about the writing of her great story of "Ramona." 
This was the expiring effort of her genius, and is perhaps its most 
powerful and memorable illustration. The story is interesting, 
the literary skill is adequate, and the purpose of the book does 
not lead the writer to forget the obligations of art. It marks 
the worthy close of a noble career, and insures Mrs. Jackson a 
place in the literature of our country which few of her sex have 
attained. 

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward (1844-). Imaginative spec- 
ulations as to human life beyond the grave have occupied a large 
share of this writer's attention, and have given her a wide and 
unique reputation. Such books as "The Gates Ajar," "The 
Gates Between" and "Beyond the Gates," arguing from the life 
we know to the life we know not, could not fail to attract popu- 
lar curiosity; and the fact that the conclusions they pronounce 

are agreeable to hope, are morally elevated and have 
The other a sort of rational plausibility, has caused them to be 
fiction. popular. Apart from this series of books, Miss 

Phelps has devoted herself to story-writing. The 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 



287 



Stories have a manifest moral, but they are conceived intensely, 
and ably executed. The trials, temptations and sorrows of the 
poor are tenderly portrayed, and the conflict in woman's nature 
between the claims of love and the aspirations for a career is 
sympathetically depicted — as in "The Story of Avis" and 
"Doctor Zay." The female characters in her stories are often 
excellent: the men are apt to be 
unreal or extravagant. Extrava- 
gance, in thought and style, is 
Miss Phelps's chief foible. She 
is vividly emotional, — at times 
almost hysterical, — and this trait 
is detrimental to her artistic in- 
tegrity. The personal element is 
too prominent: she is never so 
successful as when she speaks in 
some other character than her 
own. As soon as she begins to 
talk about her characters, the 
reader is liable to receive a shock. 
It sometimes seems as if, to her 
mind, sense and grammar were incompatible. It is singular 
that one so competent to delineate what is tender, pure and 
spiritual in human life should be so destitute of rhetorical 
conscience. Apart from these faults, her stories are often 
developed with an exquisite spontaneity, heightened by touches 
that only a woman — we might say, only Miss Phelps — could 
apply. Their merits and beauties cannot, like their faults, be 
analyzed; the finest of them are too fine to be described. 
Though often short, they touch large subjects with truth and 
effect. "The Madonna of the Tubs" and "Jack" are good 
instances of both her faults and her merits. Since her recent 
marriage she has produced, in conjunction with her husband, 
a novel the scene of which is in Palestine, at the time of the 
Christian era. 




Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. 



288 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

Edward P. Roe (i 838-1 888) entered the army as chaplain 
of a cavalry regiment, and held that position throughout the war. 
His regiment saw much active service, and Mr. Roe was made 
acquainted with human nature in its most undisguised and spon- 
taneous forms. At the time of the Chicago fire, he visited that 
city, and was moved to write a story, of which the incident of 
the fire should be the centre of interest. This novel — " Barriers 
Burned Away" — achieved an immediate and immense popular- 
ity, which encouraged its author to proceed on the same lines. 
Up to the time of his death he continued to produce one or two 
stories every year, and the aggregate sales of his books did not 
fall short of a million. Besides his novels, he wrote several 
valuable treatises on fruit-raising and gardening .("Success with 
Small Fruits," "The Home Acre," etc.) which were founded on 
the result of practical experience. 

Roe did not possess the fine literary gift that it has become 

common to expect in successful writers nowadays; his style is 

commonplace, and there are no lofty flights of imagi- 

A wholesome nation in his stories. His books have a moral pur- 
no veiist. ^ 

pose : they inculcate a lesson : the love-interest is 

conventional, passing through dii¥iculties and troubles to a happy 
conclusion. But Roe's readers are the great middle-class of the 
American people : the men and women whose solid qualities 
constitute the social and industrial prosperity of the nation. 
These people read Roe's books not for entertainment merely, 
but for the truth, the hope, the manly goodness that they every- 
where display. The writer was educated in the sternest and 
tenderest school that has been open to the men of his generation. 
The rough soldiers with whom he associated loved and trusted 
him as a brother : and on the eve of battles, or at the bedside of 
the dying, he was the recipient of their confidences. With these 
men he talked, lived and sympathized for years, sharing their 
privations, combating their evils, shouldering their responsibili- 
ties, vindicating before them the love and goodness of God. 
No man among them was manlier than he. He learned there 
what human nature is, and took to heart the lesson. His faith 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY^ 



289 



and charity were strengthened and deepened by experience. 
His whole heart was in every effort that he made, and in his 
literary efforts no less than in others. He wrote because he felt 
impelled to write, and wished to convey to others what he had 
himself believed — that man is master of his moral fate, and that 
evil is never unconquerable by good. He wrote with emotion, 
conviction and reverence; and produced a series of healthy, 
hopeful, masculine stories, the characters in which were drawn 
from that great class of the common people to which he appealed. 
Posterity may not preserve them, but they have merited their 
popularity, in having been the source of innocent entertainment 
and moral benefit to millions of readers. 



Lew Wallace (182 8-) is the author of two romances not less 
popular than Roe's. Like Roe, he lacks the literary gift — a 
quality hard to define, save by 
negatives. But it would be rash 
to say that books like these suc- 
ceed because they are not literary. 
Numberless books not less ordi- 
nary in style fall from the press 
still-born. Literary excellence 
is no more a recommendation 
than a deterrent to the mass of 
readers. Wallace and Roe are 
popular in their day because of 
some real worth in what they 
have to say, irrespective of the 
manner in which it is said. 
General Wallace's first book was 
a story of the conquest of Mex- 
ico by Cortez. The epoch of 

"The Fair God" is picturesquely described, and the narrative 
is full of action, color and excitement. The combats and bat- 
tles are vigorously portrayed, and brave men and lovely women 
make love and mischief as in the romances of old time. The 




Lew Wallace. 



290 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

archaeological knowledge displayed by the writer is abundant and 

accurate. His other novel — "Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ" 

— takes us back to the beginning of our era, and 

Two stirring: gu^^Q^ons before us a series of strange and splendid 
romances. ° ' 

scenes. The best-known passage is that describing 

a chariot race — a vigorous and stirring example of descriptive 

prose. Wallace's stories carry the reader swiftly along, after the 

manner of Scott's romances: but he has none of the great 

Scotchman's power of drawing character, nor anything of his 

humor. 

Charles King (1844-) is a graduate of West Point, and served 
gallantly in the Fifth Cavalry; he was repeatedly wounded in 
the Indian wars. In 1879 his wounds compelled him to go on 
the retired list; since then he has applied himself to authorship. 
In some half-dozen or more lively and romantic stories he has 
depicted army life on the plains, giving an inside view of the 
American soldier's post-bellum existence that has 
Capital sto- a historical value, as well as a strong narrative inter- 
tary Ufe. ^^^- -^^^ heroines are beautiful, and his heroes dash- 
ing and attractive. Most of his novels appeared in 
"Lippincott's Magazine," and found many readers. They are 
stories of incident, but the character-drawing is often good. 
They have not the literary merit of some of John Strange Win- 
ter's stories, but their healthy, hearty sentiment compensates for 
many deficiencies. Captain King's work improves in quality as 
he goes on. Among his books are "The Colonel's Daughter," 
"Dunraven Ranch," "From the Ranks" and "The Deserter." 

William Henry Bishop (1847-) is more properly a literary 
man than is any of the three writers last mentioned: he has 
talent, depth, large experience of life and a decided vein of odd 
and original humor, the more remarkable for the reticence 
observed in its use. But in the making of his books, he has had 
the misfortune to be distracted by two opposing influences. His 
natural tendency, as exhibited in his best short stories, is to 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 291 

choose singular and recondite subjects, and to treat them some- 
what after the manner of Poe and Fitz-James O'Brien. His 
literary conscience, on the other hand, inclines him to accept 
the gospel embodied in the works of James and Howells; and 
his longer, serious novels are accordingly overburdened with 
description, and with comments on character. But he has not 
quite the art to make them attractive, and his novels, though 
meritorious, are, therefore, apt to be dull. If some such motive 
as that which is found in "One of the Thirty Pieces," or in 
"Mclntyre's False Face," were expanded into a theme for a novel, 
the result might be valuable : but productions like "Detmold," 
"The House of a Merchant Prince" and "The Yellow Snake," 
though they contain romantic stories, are rendered sluggish and 
ineffective by the load of explanation and analysis that is heaped 
upon them. Bishop has written a volume of travel-sketches on 
"Mexico and the Lost Provinces," which are excellent examples 
of that kind of work. He has lately been living abroad. 

F. Marion Crawford (1854-) published his first novel, "Mr. 
Isaacs," in 1883, but his fecundity has been great, and every 
year since then he has added at least two volumes to the list of 
his writings. They are all romantic stories of a high class, and, 
speaking generally, they show a steady improvement in style 
and literary quality. Mr. Crawford was educated in Europe, 
and has spent most of his life there and in India : consequently 
the majority of his novels have a foreign background. He is 
still at the height of his productiveness, so that it is too soon to 
determine his place in our literature : but, on the basis of what 
he has already done, it cannot fail to be a high and honor- 
able one. His best-known works are "Mr. Isaacs," "A Roman 
Singer," "Zoroaster." 

Henry Harland ("Sydney Luska ") (1861-) became known a 
few years ago as the author of "Mrs. Peixada " and "The Yoke 
of the Thorah," novels dealing with Jewish character and life 
in New York. It was a new field, the stories were striking and 



292 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

unhackneyed and the characters were strongly presented. Few 
writers so young as Harland have shown better literary taste, or 
faculties more promising. He followed up his success with other 
stories and short novels, which, if not better done than the first, 
were at least not inferior to them. But he recognized that the 
vein he was working had its limits, and in 1888 he sailed for 
England, in search of fresh materials and impressions, and he 
still resides there. 

In addition to the above may be named John Habberton, 
author of the famous little story of "Helen's Babies" and of 
"Brueton's Bayou," "All He Knew" and many other novels; 
H. H. Boyesen, author of "Gunnar" and numerous well-written 
novels and romances; Robert Grant, author of "The Little Tin 
Gods on Wheels," "An Average Man" and other novels, and of 
books for boys; Louisa M. Alcott, author of "Little Women" 
and other charming books for children; Frances Hodgson Bur- 
nett, author of " That Lass o' Lowrie's," "Little Lord Faunt- 
leroy," etc.; Louis Pendleton, who has written some admirable 
Southern stories — "In the Wire Grass," "Bewitched," etc.; 
Christian Reid, a Southern writer, who has written a series of 
excellent stories, beginning with "Valerie Aylmer "; Anna Kath- 
erine Greene, whose specialty is sensational stories of the better 
class, like "The Leavenworth Case"; Amelie Rives Chanler, 
whose story of "The Quick or the Dead?" created a temporary 
impression; and Edgar Saltus, a brilliant and epigrammatic 
novelist, bold and unconventional in his choice and handling of 
subjects, whose orbit it is still too early to calculate. 

Dialect Novelists. 

The United States, though united, are as yet far from being 
homogeneous as regards the character of their inhabitants; and 
the habits and speech of the people of one section are still 
strange to those of another. A class of writers has naturally 
arisen whose mission it is to report the ways of outlying districts 
to their countrymen. As a rule, the prophets of such regions 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 



293 



are also natives of them, and they have made it their special 
function to reproduce the dialect of the neighborhood. Many 
of them make a study of negro solecisms; others of \}£i^ patois of 
the New Orleans Creoles, or of the mountaineers of Tennessee 
and Virginia, or of the blue-grass Kentuckians. The term 
"Dialect Novelists" is not always completely descriptive of 
these writers, but no other is, on the whole, so comprehensive. 
Artistically employed, dialect illuminates character, and individ- 
ualizes the speaker; but if used without proper discrimination, 
it has a precisely opposite effect, and actually obscures both 
characters and story. Dialect stories have been in demand in 
the magazines of late years, and have been much debased by 
incompetent and pseudo-humorous writers. But there remains a 
body of literature in which the principle is applied with discre- 
tion and good effect. In the process of time, dialect must dis- 
appear, and then these books will acquire a philological value in 
addition to whatever literary worth they may possess. 



Joel Chandler Harris (1848-) was born in Eatonton, Central 
Georgia, and has all his life been 
an inhabitant of that state : he 
lives at present in Atlanta, and 
edits the "Constitution," one of 
the influential papers of the South. 
As a writer of political editorials, 
he is broad-minded and progressive, 
and has done much to promote cor- 
dial relations between the South 
and the North. 

But his fame, which extends all 
over the United States, and has 
found its way to England and the 
British colonies in all parts of the 
globe, is founded upon writings of 
a very different sort. It is less than ten years ago since innu- 
merable readers began to read and extol "Uncle Remus." The 




Joel Chandler Harris. 



294 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

volume that bore this title contained some of the songs, 
some of the philosophy and some of the quaint legends 
of animals current among negroes in the South before the 
war. "Uncle Remus" himself is a plantation darkey of the 
old school, who tells to his master's little boy marvellous 
and fascinating stories, and sings the songs and preaches the 
doctrines of his race, using throughout the negro dialect in its 
classic purity. The success of the first collection of sketches 
(which were originally contributed to the columns of the "Atlanta 
Constitution") led Harris to supplement them with "A Rainy 
Day with Uncie Remus" and "Nights with Uncle Remus." All 
classes of readers enjoy these inimitable books. Children 
delight in the personifications of animals, and in their endless 
The master plotting and counter-plotting; the elders are charmed 
of dialect by the sly humor, the original philosophy and the 
s ones. fantastic conceits; the critics praise the faithful skill 

and literary genius that render the stories masterpieces in them- 
selves, as well as records of a folk-lore heretofore unknown to 
literature. Harris had a high ideal of what dialect sketches 
should and should not be. In the preface to "Uncle Remus" 
he says: "If the language of Uncle Remus fails to give vivid 
hints of the really poetic imagination of the negro : if it fails to 
embody the quaint and homely humor which was his most prom- 
inent characteristic : if it does not suggest a certain picturesque 
sensitiveness, — a curious exaltation of mind and temperament 
not to be expressed in words, — then I have reproduced the form 
of dialect merely, and not the essence, and my attempt may be 
accounted a failure." Tried by this high test, his work is the 
best of its kind. 

" Free Joe and the Rest of the World " is a story, in which 
humor and pathos play equal parts, of a negro who had been 
freed by the suicide of his master, while the rest of his race was 
still enslaved. But the negro has not monopolized Harris's 
attention. In "Little Compton," "Azalia," "Trouble on Lost 
Mountain" and "At Teague Poteet's," he has dealt with pecul- 
iar phases of Southern life, and has shown the same careful and 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 



295 



accurate study, and power of truthful and delicate characteriza- 
tion, that marked his earlier work. One is tempted to say that 
it is in Harris's option to make himself the foremost American 
novelist; and since he is still a young man, it is worth his while 
to try. 



George Washington Cable (1844-). After a youth of priva- 
tion, self-abnegation and hard work (including two years' active 
service in the Confederate ranks) Cable found himself a jour- 
nalist in his native city of New Orleans. He was a born writer 
of stories, and was finally led to picture the life about him in the 
guise of fiction. It was a life which he knew thoroughly in all 
its branches, and which had never, up to this time, had an ade- 
quate expositor. It was a rich field for romantic and poetic 

cultivation. Creole life in New 

Orleans, with its unique social 
and political conditions, fur- 
nished the basis of his books, 
— "Old Creole Days," "The 
Grandissimes," "Dr. Sevier" and 
"Madame Delphine." He has also 
published descriptive sketches of 
the Acadians in Louisiana, and 
several historical studies. In a 
literary sense, he has made his 
native state his own. 

The Creoles are a people char- 
acterized by warm impulses, fiery 
passions and gracious and grace- 
ful behavior. Cable's kindly 

heart and love of beauty fits him to enter sympathetically into 
the portrayal of their romantic and chivalric existence; but 
though he makes the most of the charm of this peculiar Southern 
life, he deals with higher subjects than those that appeal only to 
taste : he deals with wrongs and grievances, with the strong pas- 
sions of love and ambition; pathos is, perhaps, his strongest 




George Washington Cable. 



296 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

note. The story of Bras Coup6 in "The Grandissimes " is one 
of the most vivid and pathetic stories in our literature. The 
young schoohnaster in "Au Large" is a peculiarly touching 
figure, and the Acadian life which the story represents to us 
seems to be a study of life on another planet. His work is rich 

in descriptions, which, however, interpret and sel- 
no^*'u*^^'^^ dom overload the theme. He depicts the strange 

architecture and aspect of the old Creole city; and 
he shows the loathsome, festering swamp as it never had been 
shown. He reproduces with admirable skill the patois of the 
people, and envelops characters and scenes in a warm artistic 
atmosphere. Human nature, and human individuality, are 
never absent from his stories, and he has added a distinct page 
to our literature. 

Edward Eggleston (183 7-). The life of frontier settlements 
is Dr. Eggleston's favorite theme: he finds there material to 
enlist his sympathies and stimulate his thought. In his youth, 
as a preacher travelling from hamlet to hamlet, he became 
familiar with the character and ways of the plain, uncultivated, 
indomitable people who subdue the wilderness : there the arti- 
ficialities that obscure and hamper the free expression of human 
nature were unknown, and it manifested itself freely, in its 
ugliness and in its ineradicable beauty. It was not like the bar- 
barous and romantic life described by Bret Harte; for here were 

women and children, and domestic joys and sorrows. 
The novelist ^ , . . ..'.,., 

andhisto- It was a phase of existence rich in sterling human 

rian of the interest, which had hitherto lacked portrayal. Eggle- 

frontier. ' ,,••,?-. 

ston was the man to supply the omission; he had 

observant eyes and a stout and tender heart, and the physical 

robustness of the pioneers themselves. His nature was earnest 

and energetic, warmed by humor, and graced with an instinct 

for the picturesque in character and scenery. 

Stories and novels, therefore, came readily from his pen : but 

his talent was better adapted for historical work than for fiction. 

The final effect of his novels is powerful : but the progress of 



WRITERS OF r 0-DAY. 297 

events is delayed by a too minute and realistic attention to detail. 
He is as exhaustive as Balzac, without the redeeming magic of 
Balzac's artistic atmosphere. He does not sufficiently recognize 
the relative value of component parts : all alike are flooded with 
a full light. He has not the power of condensing a volume of 
observation into a paragraph; of grouping and shading. He 
wished to tell not the truth only, but the whole truth; and his 
stories are consequently not so much works of art as records of 
fact, in a thin disguise of fiction. But even as they are, they 
were well worth writing. "The Hoosier Schoolmaster" is a fine 
novel; and "The Circuit Rider," "The End of the World," 
"The Mystery of Metropolisville," " Roxy " and "The Graysons " 
constitute a substantial and comprehensive picture of the Ameri- 
can frontier. 

Eggleston, however, had already learned his own powers and 
the importance of the field he was working. He conceived the 
idea of writing the complete history of " Life in the Thirteen 
Colonies," arranging it in such divisions as "The Beginning of 
a Nation," "The Planting of New England," "The Aborigines 
and the Colonists," "Indian War in the Colonies," "Commerce 
in the Colonies " and "Social Life in the Colonies." For several 
years past he has been laboring with all his might on this work, 
has consulted all the sources of information in this and in for- 
eign countries and has incidentally collected a large library of 
unique character and great value. Nine years have already been 
devoted to this history, and three more are likely to pass ere it 
is completed. Chapters of it have occasionally appeared in the 
"Century" magazine, and some parts of it have been published 
in volume form. It seems likely to be, in its entirety, one of 
the most useful and readable of American histories. 

Charles Egbert Craddock (Mary N. Murfree) is one of the 
most promising of the younger Southern novelists. Her early 
sketches, first published in the "Atlantic Monthly," met with imme- 
diate recognition; and her later work has fairly maintained her 
early promise. A collection of her short stories was aptly named 



298 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

" In the Tennessee Mountains," and all her work might be included 
under this general title, for her purpose has uniformly been to 
depict the life of this region. The everlasting hills, calmly obser- 
vant of human vicissitudes, form a harmonious background for her 
wild, pathetic and tragic scenes. The mountaineers whom she 
portrays are a taciturn, serious, secret race, with few ideas, but 
tenacious of those they have. Her men are stern and rude ; her 
women are reserved, undemonstrative, lacking in feminine grace 
and charm, but intense and unalterable both in their loves and 
in their hates. This strange people, with their uncompromising 
speech, their peculiar dialect, and their rugged natural environ- 
ment, form an unfamiliar and powerful picture, to which the 
author has succeeded in imparting hfe and vividness. 

Miss Murfree's works are, . " In the Tennessee Mountains " 
(1884), "Where the Battle was Fought" (1884), "In the Clouds" 
(1886), "The Story of Keedon Bluffs" (1887), "The Despot of 
Broomsedge Cove " (1888), " In the Stranger Peoples' Country" 
(1891), "The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains" and 
" Down the Ravine." 

E. W. Howe (1854-). The position in fiction of this writer 
is not easily fixed. He is one of our most impressive and imag- 
inative story-tellers; his stories are realistic in texture and ideal 
in conception : pathos, tragedy and humor are at his command, 
and yet he appears indifferent to artistic construction. He does 
not write dialect, — all his characters speak ordinary colloquial 
English, — and nevertheless his scenes are laid in unfamiliar 
places, and among primitive and uneducated people. Howe is 
profoundly in earnest, and deals with life in its essence, but his 
writing is to the last degree simple and devoid of artifice. The 
reader may see nothing in his books, or everything, according 
to his own mental stature and emotional experience. Their at- 
mosphere is very pronounced, softening all details and bringing 
them into harmony. The author is original; he does not reflect 
other authors' books or methods. He interprets the world in his 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 299 

own way, and his personal impress is upon his every sentence. 
He never varies the tone of his straightforward talk. His field 
of observation has not been large, nor his reading extensive, but 
he has thoroughly digested what he has seen and known, and from 
the elements he creates the whole. His name is attached to but 
four novels, — "The Mystery of the Locks," "The Story of a 
Country Town," "The Moonlight Boy" and "A Man Story"; 
but within these limits he has done work which will be remem- 
bered when much that is cleverer and more sensational is for- 
gotten. 

Rebecca Harding Davis (183 1-) came into notice in the early 
years of the war by the publication of a powerful story of the 
border states, entitled "Life in the Iron Mills." "I write from 
the border of the battlefield," she says in her preface, "and I 
find in it no theme for shallow argument or flimsy rhymes." 
Had Mrs. Davis devoted herself wholly to pure literature, it is 
probable that she would have taken the highest place among our 
woman writers. But her best powers have been devoted to jour- 
nalism, and books bearing her name are too seldom seen. Her 
best stories are "Margaret Howth," "Waiting for the Verdict" 
and "Galbraith." 

Richard Malcolm Johnston (182 2-) is by birth a Georgian, 
and he introduced to literature the Georgia "Cracker." He 
depicts with sympathetic delight the simple country life with 
which he is familiar, and reproduces with singular felicity the 
vernacular of the plantations. His chief works are " The Dukes- 
borough Tales," "Mr. Absalom Bilingslea and other Georgia 
Folks," "Old Mark Langston " and an excellent "History of 
English Literature," written in collaboration with W. H. Brown. 

Thomas Nelson Page (185 3-), a Virginian, gained notice by 
two dialect stories, "Meh Lady" and "Marse Chan," contrib- 
uted to magazines. They relate to the war and the subsequent 



300 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

period. No more truthful pictures of the sentiments and spirit 
of the Southern people can elsewhere be found in the same com- 
pass. He has latterly published some useful articles on South 
literature before and after the war. H. C. Bunner has written 
some scholarly and humorous stories of life in old New York. 
T. A. Janvier has made a special study of Mexico. James 
Lane Allen, whose home is half way between the Atlantic 
and the Pacific, is a general writer of marked excellence; and 
Brander Matthews (185 2-) is a novelist, poet, essayist and 
literary and dramatic critic whose productions are never dull, 
and often possess high literary and artistic merit. 

Naturalists. 

We now leave the domain of fiction, and come to those writers 
who have devoted themselves to the description of aspects of 
nature and of natural history, and to the pursuits that belong to 
country life. Henry Thoreau is the type of this class of authors, 
the representatives of which are not numerous; though the 
development and settlement of the west coast is likely to mul- 
tiply them. 

John Burroughs (183 7-) was born on a farm in New York 
state, but his naturalistic proclivities did not develop at once. 
"Almost my first literary attempts," he says in an autobiograph- 
ical fragment, "were moral reflections, somewhat in the John- 
sonese style. As a youth, I was a philosopher; as a young man, 
I was an Emersonian; as a middle-aged man, I am a literary 
naturalist; but always have I been an essayist." He is spoken 
of as a follower of Thoreau, but their differences are more nota- 
ble than their similarities. Thoreau' s writings are deliberately 
personal: Burroughs's are as impersonal as he can make them. 
Thoreau is arrogant and creative : Burroughs is meditative and 
receptive. Burroughs follows the method of science, and the 
accuracy of his statements can be relied on: Thoreau affected 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 301 

the poetic view, and his work as a naturalist is untrustworthy. 

Burroughs presents himself to nature in a neutral attitude, not 

to take notes of malice prepense, but from sponta- 

1 \i „ 1 cc An author 

neous impulse. i come, gradually, he says, to who is a 

have a feeling that I want to write upon a given g'enuine 

, , , naturalist. 

theme — ram, for instance, or snow; but what 1 may 

have to say upon it is as vague as the background of one of 
Millet's pictures. My hope is entirely in the feeling or attrac- 
tion which draws my mind that way; the subject is congenial, 
it sticks to me; whenever it occurs to me, it awakens as it were 
a warm personal response." 

Besides his special work. Burroughs has written essays on 
Thoreau, Emerson, Matthew Arnold and Carlyle. Among his 
books are "Wake Robin," "Winter Sunshine," "Fresh Fields," 
"Signs and Seasons," "Indoor Studies" and "Pepacton." 

John James Audubon (i 780-1801) belongs to another gener- 
ation, but his predilections, and the fact that he has had no 
rivals in his chosen line, render him still a contemporary. With 
extraordinary enthusiasm, he carried out his great enterprise of 
describing the habits and executing colored portraits of the birds 
of America. Most of these portraits are of life size, and are 
accurate in every detail. The letter-press of the gigantic 
volumes is not only scientifically valuable, but is written in a 
glowing and attractive style. He was a man of picturesque and 
romantic character, and the devotion with which his wife assisted 
him in the preparation of his work is a charming feature of their 
joint history. William Hamilton Gibson (1848-) is an artist 
by profession, and has made exquisite delineations of landscape, 
forests and hedge-rows, in black and white. At length he began 
to write on the same subjects. Both his articles and his draw- 
ings were contributed to the magazines, chiefly to "The Cen- 
tury" and "Harper's." He illustrated the agricultural works of 
his friend, E. P. Roe. The author of "Ten Acres Enough" 
made a wide impression by the publication of that useful and 



302 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

practical guide to small farming; and "Ik Marvel," in his "My 
Farm at Edgewood," performed a similar service to suburban 
agriculture. R. G. Pardee wrote "A Complete Manual for the 
Cultivation of Strawberries"; and Charles Barnard is the 
author of "The Strawberry Garden," "My Ten Rod Farm " and 
other books, in which agriculture and humor are combined. 

Essayists and Historians. 

This group, if it were made complete, would be a very wide 
one, for a majority of American authors find occasion, now and 
then, to write an essay. A large number, also, make that their 
chief, if not their sole occupation. The essay is simply an 
article of any length on any given subject, and could be made to 
include newspaper editorials. We shall confine ourselves to 
such essayists as have become eminent in that branch of writing, 
and who have displayed true literary qualifications. Contem- 
porary historians are comparatively few, but there is an increas- 
ing tendency towards historical research. 

John Fiske (1842-) is the most substantial and enlightened 
figure in American philosophy. His culture is wide and schol- 
arly, embracing the folk-lore of Europe, American history, the 
problems of education and cognate matters. But he is best 
known as the interpreter of the Darwinian and Spencerian phi- 
losophies, which he has expounded both in books and on the 
lecture-platform. Nor is he merely a paraphrasist of what has 
been already written: on the contrary, he is an able original 
investigator on evolutionary lines, and has carried the analysis, 
by logical steps, to heights not attained by Spencer himself. 
According to Fiske, the principle of evolution does not conflict 
with the ideas of God and of a future spiritual life, but confirms 
them. He has made a masterly discussion of these subjects in 
his "The Destiny of Man viewed in the Light of his Origin" 
and his " Idea of God as effected by Modern Knowledge." Thus 
Fiske controverts the Agnostics, and brings powerful support to 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 303 

the afifirmative side of the controversy. Some of his other works 
are "Myths and Myth-Makers," "Outlines of Cosmic Philoso- 
phy," "Darwinism and Other Essays," "Excursions of an Evo- 
lutionist," "American Political Ideas," "The Critical Period in 
American History." Fiske is now at work on a "History of the 
American People," in which the question of the philosophical 
principles with which he has identified himself will be traced in 
the development of civilization and national character in this 
country. 

George William Curtis (1824-1892) was a Rhode Islander by 
birth, but came to New York in his sixteenth year, and served for 
a time in a counting-house. But his temperament was literary, 
sentimental and progressive, and when the Brook Farm Commu- 
nity was started, Curtis was among its members. After three or 
four years of transcendental farming, there and elsewhere, he 
visited Europe and the East, remaining four years. The literary 
fruits of this journey were contained in two volumes of senti- 
ment, description and fancy, entitled "Nile Notes of a Howadji " 
and "The Howadji in Syria." Returning about 

1850, he contributed to the New York "Tribune" The Howadji 
^ , in literature, 

a series of letters from Saratoga, Newport and Lake 

George, which were later collected under the title of "Lotus- 
Eating." They are very different in character from such letters 
as would be written nowadays. The author cultivated his emo- 
tions, indulged in poetical reflections, and quoted freely from 
the poets. 

A little later in life, he fell into a gently satirical vein, and in 
"The Potiphar Papers," contributed to "Putnam's Magazine," 
he sought to rival the famous "Salmagundi " of Washington Irv- 
ing. "Prue and I" is a volume of sketches in narrative form; 
and "Trumps" is, fortunately, the author's only attempt at novel- 
writing. 

In 1852 began Curtis's connection with "Harper's Magazine." 
He created the department called "The Editor's Easy Chair" 
and has filled it, with one or two brief intermissions, ever since. 



304 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

These essays treat of all manner of topics, are rich in literary 
allusions, easy and cultivated in style, and are characterized by 
a sort of refined good humor. Of late years, as might be expected, 
he has begun to repeat himself somewhat, but the department is 
still a popular one in the magazine. Meanwhile, in 1857, he 
began "The Lounger" papers in "Harper's Weekly," and in 1863 
assumed the editorship of the periodical, and wrote editorials 
on political and municipal topics. For several years before and 
after the war, he was a familiar figure on lyceum platforms. In 
1884 he "bolted" the Republican party, but instead of identify- 
ing himself with the Democrats, established an independent 
Darty, which became known as the "Mugwumps." It will be 
noticed that by far the greater part of Curtis' s writings remains 
in the columns of periodicals. Were they to be taken thence, 
and republished in book form, they would fill some thirty good- 
sized volumes. 

Charles Dudley Warner (1829-) was born in Plainfield, 
Massachusetts, educated at Hamilton College, was for a year a 
surveyor on the Missouri frontier, studied law in Philadelphia, 
and practised as a lawyer in Chicago: but in i860 he made his 
final home in Hartford, Connecticut, where he edited the " Hart- 
ford Courant." In 1875 ^^ made an extended trip abroad, and 
during the last few years he has made a thorough exploration of 
the Southern and Pacific States, and of the Mississippi region. 

This is the record of a man eager for experience, and inquisi- 
tive to see whatever sights the world could afford him. But 
though his history may indicate restlessness, Warner himself, so 
far as his character and temperament may be discerned in his 
books, is one of the most restful and leisurely of 

Atypical American authors. He sustains the impact of the 
American. ^ 

world with a humorous smile; he sees everything, but 

sees it in an entertaining light; he is tranquil and observant 
where another would be bewildered and fractious. Whether dig- 
ging and planting in his garden, or contemplating the majesty 
of the Sphinx at Memphis, he is always true to himself — an 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 



305 



American of Americans, and therefore free from prejudices and 
provincialisms, but redolent of the native flavor, unterrified by 
conventions and pretences, yet reverent always in the presence 
of what deserves reverence; testing all things with the talisman 
of simple common-sense, which counteracts false enchantments 
and restores objects to their 
real shapes. To look upon the 
world independently and, as it 
were, primitively, and to report 
the unhackneyed and untradi- 
tional truth about it, is a rare 
and precious faculty; it is of 
the essence of the best type 
of American humor, which is 
Warner's. He makes himself 
impersonal by identifying him- 
self with his own reader; it 
is as if the reader were writ- 
ing the book, or the writer 
reading it. La Rochefoucauld 
asserts that there is something not unpleasing to us in the mis- 
fortunes of our best friends; but Warner enjoys his own mishaps 
quite as much as could the most impartial spectator. The 
sesthetic sense is also full-grown in him; he never misses a point 
of beauty, and he discriminates infallibly between the pinchbeck 
and the genuine. He is a first-rate literary critic — one who 
can not only dissect, but create; and the earnest and sensible 
thought he has bestowed upon social and political questions 
renders his judgments thereupon weighty and illuminating. In 
his humorous and meditative essays, he says all the good things 
that one wishes one had said one's self; in his narratives of 
travel, he tells us precisely the things we wanted to know, which 
no one else had told; in his critical vein, he so lucidly reveals 
the structure and character of the thing criticised that we are 
ready to credit our own insight, rather than his, with the verdict. 
"My Summer in a Garden," the first book that brought him 




Charles Dudley Warner. 



306 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

into notice, is a collection of papers contributed to the "Hart- 
ford Courant." Quiet, irresistible fun is the ruling trait of the 
volume : no one who knows what a garden and human nature are, 

can withstand the excruciating veracity of its comedy. 

"Back-Log Studies" is a series of meditations on all 
subjects, with graver passages interspersed among the smiling 
ones : for mere literary charm and excellence it has never been 
surpassed by the author, and scarcely by any one else. " In the 
Wilderness " takes us to the Adirondacks, and portrays the fas- 
cination of the woods^ the humors of camping-out, the terrors 
of the black bear and the excitement of the deer-hunt. " My 
Winter on the Nile " gives a truer picture of travel and scenery 
in Egypt than has been painted elsewhere; "In the Levant" 
carries on the story, taking the charm along with it; "Saunter- 
ings," "Baddeck, and that Sort of Thing" and "Roundabout 
Journeys," are in a similar vein. "Being a Boy" is a juvenile 
classic, as fascinating to fathers as to sons. "Their Pil- 
grimage " is a description of Amertcan summer-resorts, with a 
delightful love-story interwoven in it; and he has recently 
published a book on California which is likely to stimulate all 
well-disposed persons to emigrate thither. His biographies of 
Captain John Smith, and of Washington Irving, are eminently 
just and enlightening; and he has, during the last few years, 
actually succeeded in making readable the " humorous depart- 
ment " of one of our leading magazines. Surely such a man as 
this deserves the gratitude of his countrymen. 

Richard Grant White (1821-1885) was born and educated in 
New York, began life as a lawyer there, but soon devoted himself 
to musical, philological and Shakespearian criticism, and to 
literature in general. He was a man of penetrating and inde- 
pendent intellect, of imperturbable and somewhat sarcastic 
humor, pugnacious but good-tempered in disposition, strong in 
common-sense, exquisitely alive to sensuous beauty and deeply 
versed in books and men. His "Words and their Uses," an 
admirable and unhackneyed guide to sound prose composition, 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 307 

was published in 1870; his "Every Day English," about ten 

years later. During this period he also wrote monthly papers 

for "The Galaxy" magazine, and articles, sometimes 

critical, sometimes controversial. In the latter, he ^scholar in 

literature. 
was especially felicitous; few men were better able to 

annihilate an opponent, while maintaining thorough good-humor. 
A collection of some of these fugitive papers of his would make 
a delightful volume. He edited two editions of Shakespeare, 
with an " Essay on the Authorship of the Three Parts of Henry 
VI.," a treatise on "Memoirs of William Shakespeare," and 
"Studies in Shakespeare," which was his last production previous 
to his death. All these books display clear judgment and sound 
scholarship, and served to clear the air of much accumulated 
fog and nonsense. In 1876-7 White made a trip to England, 
which his previous training had qualified him to enjoy to the 
utmost. "England Within and Without" was the result of this 
visit, and its verdict upon the mother country was a very cordial 
and friendly one. A little later he published a novel, relating the 
experiences of an American in England, designed mainly to show 
the comical ignorance of this country obtaining amongst culti- 
vated English people. White's musical criticisms have not been 
rescued from the periodicals in which they originally appeared; 
yet they are the best that have been written in this country. 
White was several inches over six feet in height, of spare, 
athletic figure, with marked aquiline features and a peculiarly 
suave and courteous manner. He was a charming companion, a 
hearty friend and a good enemy. 

James Parton (1822-1891), though by birth an Englishman, 
lived in this country from his sixth year. He wrote copiously and 
intelligently on biographical, historical and social topics. His 
essays on Smoking and Drinking, originally published in the 
"Atlantic Monthly," attracted much attention and comment. 
He was a man of broad views, though somewhat opinionated. 
He married the sister of N. P. Willis, known to readers as 
"Fanny Fern." She was eleven years his senior, and she died 



308 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

in 1872. Thomas Wentworth Higginson (1823-) was an 
abolitionist, and a colonel of negro troops in the war. He is an 
accomplished literary man, master of an urbane and graceful 
style, and an advocate of wholesome and sensible regimen of 
life. He is the author of many volumes of biography, historical 
memoranda, criticism and narrative, and of one or two works of 
fiction; but he has done nothing commensurate with his reputa- 
tion. Of his books we may name " Army Life in a Black Regi- 
ment," "Oldport Days," "Outdoor Papers," "Atlantic Essays," 
"Life of Margaret Fuller," "Young Folks' History of the United 
States " and " Malbone, an Oldport Romance." Charles Godfrey 
Leland (1824-), though born in Philadelphia, seems to have had 
a spice of the gypsy in his composition; he has seldom lived 
more than four years continuously in the same place, and some 
of his most valuable books treat of the gypsy race and language. 
A thor -^^ ^^^ probably read more books than any other man 
with a living. He has an insatiable appetite for humor and 

grypsy vein, u joi^gg^" ^nd his " Hans Breitmann's Ballads "- had a 
vast popularity. He has travelled over the greater part of the 
world, and has lived many years in Europe. He has been 
editor, author and publisher by turns. He has taken a strong 
practical interest in the industrial education of the young. At 
the age of twenty-four he fought at the barricades of Paris in 
the Revolution: and during our civil war, fifteen years later, 
he was the first to advocate the emancipation of the slaves. He 
has translated Heine, the German poet and critic, and is the 
author of many books on philology and general literature. He 
is the founder of the "Home Arts Club " in London, and of the 
"Rabelais Club." He is at present residing in London, still 
engaged in literary work. 

Gail Hamilton (18—), whose real name is Abigail Dodge, 
began her literary career as a humorist; she has continued it as 
a social essayist and reformer, and has also been a writer of 
political leaders in newspapers. She possesses both humor and 
wit in a high degree, and of a spontaneous and original flavor. 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 309 

She has singular vigor and facility of literary expression, and a 
general literary faculty which may fairly be said to touch the 
boundaries of genius. Several of her earlier papers were con- 
tributed to the "Atlantic Monthly," at about the period of the 
civil war, and in the qualities of refined fun and felicitous de- 
scription she has never surpassed them. Her best known books 
are "A New Atmosphere," "Gala Days," "Woman's Wrongs," 
"Stumbling Blocks," "The Battle of the Books," "Summer 
Rest," and "Woman's Worth and Worthlessness." She is 
Republican in politics; her humanity and charity are as broad 
as the human race. 

John Hay (1839-) was born in Indiana, and was admitted to 
the Illinois bar in 1869. But on the breaking out of the war he 
went to Washington, and received the appointment of private 
secretary to Abraham Lincoln. The intimate relations thus 
established between the young man and the President enabled 
the former, twenty years later, to command the material for the 
history which, in conjunction with John G. Nicolay, he pub- 
lished in 1890. 

During Andrew Johnson's administration, Hay — who held 
the rank of colonel in the Volunteers — ^was sent to Spain to fill 
a diplomatic post; and his impressions of that country were 
published on his return under the title of "Castilian Days." 
The book is gracefully written, with many touches of humor 
and fancy, and shows a warm and poetic appreciation of the 
romance and beauty of the home of the Hidalgos. During his 
youth. Colonel Hay had become familiar with cer- 
tain features of frontier life west of the Mississippi, Early poems 
and, at about the time that Bret Harte was writing -^^^ 
his first famous stories and poems. Hay published 
some rhymes, somewhat in Harte 's manner, that were afterwards 
collected in a volume called "Pike County Ballads." They were 
written in the rude idioms of the frontier, were original and 
audacious in tone, but strong and true in sentiment. The best 
known among them are " Little Breeches " and "Jim Bludso." 



310 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

For a time, it seemed as if Harte might find a formidable rival 
in John Hay. But the latter married soon after; and being 
thereby absolved from further dependence on his pen, he practi- 
cally retired from literature for several years, nor has he ever 
again taken up the vein that he had opened so vigorously and 
promisingly. 

About 1885, however, it became known that Haj and Nicolay 
were engaged upon an elaborate biography of Lincoln, involving 
a history of the whole period covered by his active 
Lincom ^^^^- ^^^ publication of this work was begun in the 

"Century " magazine, and chapters from it were pub- 
lished continuously for two years. It is a thorough-going and 
important work, which, in its final form, fills ten volumes. It is 
especially rich in authentic documents, and it portrays the Pres- 
ident in minutely lifelike and impressive colors. It is still too 
soon to decide whether the work possesses impartiality and 
breadth of view sufficient to place it above all necessity for future 
correction or modification. But it is, at least, a rich mine of 
material for subsequent investigation of the subject. 

John Bach McMaster (185 2-) has contributed a biography of 
Franklin to the "American Men of Letters" series, edited by 
Charles Dudley Warner. The arrangement of the leading facts 
of Franklin's career is clear and accurate, and will be useful to 
those who cannot spare time to read the great work on the same 
subject by John Bigelow. Professor McMaster' s opinions about 
Franklin are, perhaps, less valuable : his own mind was scarcely 
mature enough to comprehend Franklin's nature and genius. 
The style of the book is modelled somewhat after Macaulay's, 
but is less sonorous and balanced. McMaster is also the author 
of a "History of the People of the United States," beginning 
with the period following the Revolutionary War. It is both 
lively and minute, and adopts the method of the English histo- 
rian. Green, who treats of the development and character of the 
people themselves, rather than of the exploits of their nominal 
leaders. McMaster is not a hero-worshipper, and his estimate 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 311 

of men who have been called great is not likely to err on the side 
of eulogy. 

Samuel Adams Drake (1833-) is the author of several useful 
contributions towards the history of New England, of which the 
volume on "The Making of New England" may be taken as a 
fair type. It is designed to be a medium between the " skele- 
ton " histories of our common schools, and the elaborate works 
required by scholars. It imparts a consistent human interest to 
the events it describes, and thus assists the memory in retaining 
them. The narrative, instead of groping blindly along in chron- 
ological sequence, reviews as it were from a height the vicissi- 
tudes of discoverer, pioneer and pilgrim, and shows the relative 
bearing of occurrences. The author fears not to intimate that 
Providence controls history. The homely, heroic story of the 
Puritans is brought home to the reader, and the Indian episodes 
are treated with justness, and without mawkish sentiment. Such 
books ensure their writer an honorable place in literature. 

Ulysses S. Grant (1822-1885). After retiring from the 
Presidency, General Grant made a tour of the world, and then 
embarked in the banking business in New York. By the dis- 
honesty of his partners, he was involved in financial troubles 
which lost him his fortune. At the same time, he was afflicted 
with an incurable disease. In order to leave his family with 
means of support. General Grant undertook to write the narrative 
of his part in the civil war. He carried out his purpose with 
the same grim pertinacity and courage that had characterized him 
in the conduct of his campaigns; holding death in check by 
force of will until his work was finished. But these " Personal 
Recollections" do not need extraneous circumstances to give 
them value. The narrative is direct, clear and of admirable 
temper; the writer's own share in the events is told with modesty 
and scrupulous adherence to truth; and the services of his com- 
rades-in-arms, and of his opponents, are set down justly and 
generously. As the story of one of the important conflicts of 



312 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

the world, told at first hand by one of the chief actors in it, this 
history is invaluable; but the simple, straightforward naturalness 
of the style in which it is written adds greatly to its worth. 
Entirely plain and unpretentious, it is nevertheless strong and 
dignified, and always adequate to the demands it has to meet. 
It is what the best style should be — the reflection of the char- 
acter of the man who writes it. Without the refinements and 
polish of literary culture, it nevertheless belongs to literature, and 
illustrates how broadly catholic a thing good literature is. 

Jefferson Davis (i 808-1 890) was a man of culture and schol- 
arship, an eloquent speaker and a good writer. The leading 
part he played in the secession movement, and the inner knowl- 
edge he possessed of the Southern temper, traits and traditions, 
and of the causes which led to the civil war, render important 
his "Short History of the Confederate States of America." The 
book is written with candor and reasonable impartiality; docu- 
mentary data for statements are always forthcoming, and the 
reader is made to recognize the personal integrity and devotion 
of the Southern leaders, and the heroism of her people. More 
recently has appeared "Jefferson Davis: A Memoir," the mate- 
rials for which had been collected by Mr. Davis previous to his 
death, when they were edited and published by his widow. The 
book is an interesting and vivid account of a remarkable char- 
acter and career, and covers the most stirring periods of our 
national history. 

Among our military authors must also be mentioned General 
William Tecumseh Sherman (1820-1891), General Philip 
Sheridan (1831-1888) and General George Brinton McClellan 

( 1 826-1 885), all of whom have published volumes of personal 
memoirs, valuable as contributions to the history of the civil war. 

T. J. Chapman has published a short narrative of "The French 
in the Alleghany Valley," beginning in 1748, and coming down 
to 1784. It is well constructed and written, and may usefully 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 313 

be read in connection with Parkman's histories. Charles F. 
Richardson has published, in two volumes, a scholarly and com- 
prehensive work on "American Literature," from its beginning 
to the present day : and Moses Coit Tyler's " History of Ameri- 
can Literature," though rather inclined to take a rose-colored 
view of our productions, is nevertheless a work of solid merit so 
far as it has yet gone. 

Humorists. 

To label a writer a "humorist" is not, in this country and in 
our day, a satisfactory classification of him. The name humorist 
no longer bears the old English sense, but is applied to mere 
jesters and buffoons as well as to those who properly merit the 
title. Holmes and Lowell are humorists, not to speak of Warner, 
Harte, Hay and others of their rank. Yet to group them under 
the heading of American humorists would be misleading; they 
have wit, their productions are lightened by humor; but they do 
not live and write for the sole purpose of being funny. Very 
rarely there comes a man whose innate mental attitude or genius 
is so odd and exceptional, so out of keeping with the average 
and conventional point of view, that everything he thinks or says 
is irresistibly comical. He perceives relations that others have 
not detected; he brings near and remote together in a logical 
yet grotesque union; and when, in addition to these qualities 
and faculties, he is endowed with the literary gift, he is the very 
man we are looking for. Behind him come trooping a thousand 
incompetent or vulgar imitators, by whose inferiority we may 
measure his excellence, and who are as evanescent as he is 
enduring. 

<*Artemus Ward'* (1834-1867), as Charles F. Browne was 
known to the public, was a man whose mind was as quaintly put 
together as were those of Shakespeare's clowns. He was an 
involuntary — though by no means an unconscious — fun-maker: 
his conceits were in his mirrow, and were not more the result of 
intellectual effort than his breathing was. To his eye, the uni- 



3U AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

verse was not a universe, but a great incoherency. Wherever 
he looked, he beheld a manifest absurdity. Standards of behav- 
ior, habits of thought, modes of life, appeared to him inverted, 

arbitrary, illusive : he was impelled to reverse all 
A perverse precedent and order, and to make the planet roll 

from east to west. Had his mind stopped here, he 
would simply have been insane; but, in fact, he was a duplex 
phenomenon; few men had so clear a perception as he himself 
had of his own perversity. Hence he was a born humorist, and 
— if such a thing be predicable of fun-making — a born genius. 
On what may be called his sane side, he was possessed of excep- 
tional good sense, insight and integrity; his nature was eminently 
catholic and sympathetic, so that what he felt was felt by the mass 
of his fellow-creatures. Browne never ridiculed anything that 
all the world was not ready to join him in ridiculing: an intel- 
lect more broadly representative than his was not to be found. 
He made his unreason serve his reason, and his nonsense became 
the most effective weapon of his sense. He lifted exaggeration 
into a science, and made it seem more lifelike than accuracy 
itself. He is a profoundly satisfying writer; his absurdities so 
exactly hit one's ideal of the absurd, that one rejoices in them 
as in a personal acquisition. Not the less is he always unex- 
pected and incalculable : it is at the moment when you are least 
on your guard that he plants his most telling blows, yet there is 
apt to be a preposterous plausibility in his quips. Lecturing, 
once, in a place of entertainment in London known as the 
"Egyptian Hall" — "When the Egyptians built this hall," he 
began, and was interrupted, of course, by a roar of laughter. 
It was a natural thing to say; but was too natural for any one 
but him to have thought of saying. 

Taking up one of his books now, you will be surprised to 
find how many of his jokes and sayings have been adopted by 
Come to be ^^ nation, and have become incorporate in the Ian- 
common guage. It was he who said that an occasional joke 
stock. improved a comic paper; that, when he drank, he 
never allowed business to interfere with it; that it would have 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 315 

been ten dollars in a certain distinguished statesman's pocket if 
he had never been born; that, "they said I had a future before 
me; up to that time I had an idea it was behind me"; that, 
"I really don't care for money; I only travel round to show my 
clothes." His eccentric spelling had a kind of humorous felicity 
in it, and seemed to get more out of a word than could be 
extracted by ordinary orthography. In the mouth of this imagi- 
nary showman it was also, oftentimes, a revelation of character. 
This showman, — Artemus, — by the way, is one of the solidest 
figures in the gallery of American fiction. To the public, for 
whom Browne wrote, he is still a much more real person than is 
Charles Farrar Browne himself. Certainly there could not be 
contrast greater than that between the blatant, vulgar, common, 
talkative, impudent old buffoon of the book, and the quiet, 
delicate, pensive, sensitive-looking young gentleman of the lec- 
ture-platform. And yet, before he had been speaking five min- 
utes, you could understand how and why the creator of " Artemus " 
was his creator. 

" Artemus Ward, His Book," "Artemus Ward, His Travels" 
and "Artemus Ward in London," are the titles of Browne's 
volumes. Several of his lectures — which were got up as a bur- 
lesque and satire of the pretentious Lyceum lectures of thirty 
years ago — have never been published, and are preserved only in 
the memories of his hearers. He spent the last year of his life 
in London, where he made many hearty friends; and he died 
of consumption in Southampton, with a jest on his lips. "It 
seems the fashion," he whispered to a friend at his bedside, 
" for every one to present the Prince of Wales with something. 
I think I shall leave him my panorama." 

<<Mark Twain *' (Samuel L. Clemens) (1835-) was born in 
Missouri, and apprenticed to a printer. He made a two-years' 
visit to the East in 185 1, and on his return served as a pilot on 
a Mississippi steamboat. At the age of twenty he was acting as 
reporter on a Nevada newspaper, and later he filled a similar 
position in San Francisco. He spent six months, in the inter- 



316 



AAIERICAN LITERA TURK. 




ests of his paper, at the Sandwich Islands, and after coming back 
made a prosperous lecturing- tour. In 1867 he published, in 
New York, his "Jumping Frog" and other sketches, and the 
same year he joined a party of tourists in a voyage round the 

world, which he described in "The 
Innocents Abroad." " Roughing It " 
was his next book, depicting wild 
Western life. "Tom Sawyer" is 
the story of a boy's life; "Life on 
the Mississippi " portrays his expe- 
riences as a pilot; "The Prince and 
the Pauper" is a tale of early Eng- 
lish history; "A Tramp Abroad" 
is the narrative of his second visit 
to Europe. All his books have had 
an immense and continuous popu- 
larity. 

Mark Twain. Mark Twain has keener eyes, 

a more retentive memory and a 
finer brain than occur once in ten thousand times; and he has, 
in addition, a queer, original humor and a remarkable literary 
faculty. If all the fun were left out of his books of travel, what 
remained would sufifice to give him a high reputation as a writer. 
He sees things with wonderful clearness and correct- 
ness, and his descriptions are graphic, comprehen- 
sive and often poetically eloquent. But these 
orthodox merits inevitably fall into the background 
when the humorous fit seizes him. Some spark of 
comedy alights on his mind, and immediately begins to spread 
and kindle. There is no sudden explosion, or abrupt shock, 
nor is there a continuous fusillade, as in Browne's case; but the 
jest expands, gains impetus and force, and presently takes prece- 
dence of all else. Then we are carried onwards, and for a time 
air is quiet and regular; but, a page or a paragraph ahead, 
another seizure is awaiting us. Twain's jokes are captured by 
him in the rough and primitive state, and swiftly and rapidly 



A humorist 
who is a 
literary 
artist. 



WRITERS OF TO-DAY. 317 

transformed into works of art; nothing is omitted that can give 
them full effect, nor, on the other hand, is there often a word or 
a touch too much. Twain, in fact, whether in jest or in earnest, 
is always and instinctively an artist; it is a necessity of his 
nature to perfect his work. In jest and in earnest alike he 
preserves the same serious and candid manner: in the telling of 
his most excruciating witticisms there is apt to be a touch of 
sadness, of pathos, of anxiety. Laughter seems to be a thing 
unknown to him; he looks you solemnly and innocently in the 
eye, and prattles with childish naiVet^. His effects are cumu- 
lative; they linger in the mind not as sayings, or "points," but 
as pictures and situations. His genius thinks best when he is 
in movement: his best books are books of travel or adventure: 
indeed, he has written little outside of these categories. He 
seldom sits down to talk: he likes to lead the reader on from 
one scene to another, and the changing prospect stimulates his 
brain to fresh evolutions. His portrayals of character are second 
only to his sketches of scenery. When he chooses to be simply 
truthful, the photographic plate itself cannot outdo him; nay, 
he surpasses it, by giving the essential and shaping features, 
and leaving out the rest. There seems to be nothing that he 
cannot do, and do well: very seldom does he repeat himself; on 
the contrary, he is apt to invade totally new fields of literary 
enterprise, and with such success that one wonders whether this 
be not his truest vein, after all. He is never in a hurry, and 
though the amount of his production is not small, it contains 
internal evidence that he never writes without having something 
.to say. Mark Twain's home is in Hartford, Connecticut, but he 
passes his summers in Elmira, New York. 

The number of "humorists" who have sprung into existence 
since Artemus Ward became famous, is past computation. C. H. 
Webb ("John Paul") was a contemporary of Artemus's: he 
was the founder of the "Californian," to which Mark Twain and 
Bret Harte were early contributors; and he was the publisher of 
Twain's "Jumping Frog" volume. His humor is of a high 



318 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

order: it has been chiefly in the form of contributions to the 
daily press. Eugene Field (1850-) has for ten or twelve years 
written a daily column of irony, in a vein of his own discovery, 
which he monopolizes, in the Chicago "Daily News"; but he is 
also a very charming poet, and has written a number of admir- 
able children's stories and poems. "A Little Book of Western 
Verse " and "A Little Book of Profitable Tales" are the titles of 
two of his volumes. ** Bill Nye '' (Edward W. Nye) is one of 
the most popular comic writers. **Josh Billings'* (H. W. 
Shaw) was a homely philosopher who dealt in shrewd aphorisms 
and bad spelling. *' Bob Burdette " is a teller of comic anec- 
dotes. B. P. Shillaber (1814-1891) ("Mrs. Partington") was a 
sort of American elaborator of Sheridan's "Mrs. Malaprop"; 
and James Whitcomb Riley is the author of both humorous 
dialect and pathetic poems. The daily and weekly newspapers 
are crowded with the paragraphs of nameless wits and wittols; 
and no magazine is complete without its "humorous department " 
in the rear, or intertwined with its advertisements. Americans 
are a hard-working people, and they like to laugh, and richly 
reward those who can make them do so. But when the era 
arrives of more contentment and less competition, of less " life " 
and more living, the humorists will disappear, with the need for 
them. 



A List of Books that will be useful to the 
Student of American Literature. 



American Literature. Professor Charles F. Richardson. 
G. P. Putnam's Sons. 

This is, perhaps, the most complete and competent general survey of our 
literature to be had at this time. 

A History of American Literature. Professor Moses Coit 
Tyler. G. P. Putnam's Sons. 

This is the most able volume of criticism that has appeared in our country. 
It covers the Colonial period of our literature; the books of this period are 
not generally accessible, and Professor Tyler's work is the more useful in that 
its copious extracts enable us to dispense with the ponderous volumes 
themselves. 

Poets of America. Edmund C. Stedman. 

This review of our poetry is in convenient form, is complete, and is a safe 
guide. No better review of our poetry is to be had. 

American Men of Letters Series. Edited by Charles Dudley 
Warner. Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 

This excellent series contains lives of many of our noted authors written 
by some of our most competent critics. The books are systematic and 
succinct in treatment, and embody the most essential facts and criticisms of 
their subjects. They are models for the guidance of young students. 

Library of American Literature. Stedman and Hutchinson. 
Ten volumes. Chas. L. Webster & Co. 

This " Library " gives biographical and critical accounts of our most im- 
portant authors from the beginning to this date, together with copious selec- 
tions from their works. 



320 LIST OF BOOKS. 

The Riverside Literature Series. H, M. & Co. 

This useful series presents in neat pamphlet form, at fifteen cents a number, 
many of the best poems of our standard poets. 



A complete edition of the poems of William Cullen Bryant 
is sold by D. Appleton & Co. 

Complete editions of Poe's works may be bought from more 
than one pubHsher. Middleton's Poe is the one most in use. 

Houghton, Mifflin & Co. publish the works of most of our 
other standard poets : of Longfellow, Whittier, Taylor, Lowell, 
Holmes, and others. 

Good anthologies are Bryant's " Library of Poetry and Song " 
and Emerson's " Parnassus." 

The list might be extended indefinitely ; only the books most 
conspicuously useful have been mentioned. 



INDEX. 



Adams, John, 29. 
Adams, John Quincy, 78. 
Adams, Samuel, 35. 
Alcott, Amos Bronson, 142. 
Alcott, Louisa M., 292. 
Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 274. 
Allen, James Lane, 300. 
Allibone, S. A., 87. 
Allston, Washington, 114. 
Alsop, George, 3. 
Ames, Fisher, 34. 
Audubon, John James, 301. 

Baldwin, Joseph G., 239. 

Bancroft, George, 85. 

Bancroft, Hubert Howe, 87. 

Barlow, Joel, 26. 

Barnard, Charles, 302, 

Beecher, Henry Ward, 155. 

Bishop, W, H., 290. 

Blair, James, 11. 

Boker, George H., 240. 

Boone, Richard G., 323. 

Boyesen, H. H., 292. 

Bradford, William, 4. 

Bradstreet, Anne, 12. 

Brown, Charles Brockden, 23. 

Browne, Charles F., (Artemas Ward), 

313- 
Bryant, William Cullen, 91. 
Bunner, H. C, 300. 
Burdette, Bob, 318. 
Burnett, F. H., 292. 
Burroughs, John, 300. 
Bushnell, Horace, 153. 



Cable, George W., 295, 

Calhoun, John C, 70. 

Gary, Alice, 281, . 

Gary, Phoebe, 281. 

Chanler, Am^lie Rives, 292. 

Channing, William Ellery, 151. 

Chapman, T. J., 312. 

Choate, Rufus, ^j. 

Church, Benjamin, 7. 

Clay, Henry, 73. 

Clemens, Samuel L., (Mark Twain), 315. 

Cooke, John Esten, 238. 

Cooper, James Fenimore, 46. 

Cotton, John, 9. 

Coxe, Daniel, 3. 

Craddock, Charles E., 297. 

Crawford, F. Marion, 291. 

Curtis, George William, 303. 

Dana, R. H., 114. 
Dana, R. H., Jr., 207, 
Davis, Jefferson, 78, 312. 
Davis, Rebecca H., 299. 
Deming, Philander, 284. 
Denton, Daniel, 3. 
Dewey, Orville, 153. 
Drake, Joseph Rodman, 117. 
Drake, Samuel Adams, 311. 
Dunlap, William, 27. 
Dwight, Timothy, 26. 

Edwards, Jonathan, 11. 
Eggleston, Edward, 296. 
Eliot, John, 7. 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 120. 



321 



322 



INDEX. 



ICvans, Miss Augusta J., 239. 
Iwerett, Edward, 'j'j. 

Fawcett, Edgar, 282. 
Field, Eugene, 318. 
Fiske, John, 155, 302. 
Franklin, Benjamin, 14. 
Freneau, Philip, 25. 

Garrison, William ^Lloyd, 71. 

Gayarre, Charles Etienne, 239. 

Gibson, William Hamilton, 301. 

(iilder, R. W., 279. 

(lilmore, J. R., 240. 

(iodfrey, Thomas, 13. 

Ciookin, Daniel, 6. 

Grant, Robert, 292, 

Grant, U. S., 311. 

Greene, Anna Katherine, 292. 

Habberton, John, 292. 
Hale, Edward Everett, 212. 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 115. 
Hamilton, Alexander, 30. 
Hamilton, Gail, 308. 
Hammond, John, 3. 
Hardy, A. S., 284. 
Harland, Henry, 291. 
Harris, Joel Chandler, 293. 
Harris, W. T,, 155. 
Harte, Francis Bret, 242. 
Hawthorne, Julian, 279. 
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 157. 
Hay, John, 309. 
Hayne, Paul, 238. 
Hearn, Lafcadio, 281. 
Henry, Patrick, 35. 
Higginson, T. W., 308. 
Holland, Josiah Gilbert, 211. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 171. 
Hooker, Thomas, 8. 
Hopkins, Mark, 155. 
Hopkinson, Francis, 26. 
Howe, E. W., 298. 
Howells, William Dean, 254. 

Irving, Washington, 38 



Jackson, Mrs. H. H., 285. 
James, Henry, Sr., 154. 
James, Henry, 248. 
Janvier, Thomas A., 300. 
Jay, John, 33. 
Jefferson Thomas, 27. 
Jewett, Sarah Orne, 283. 
Johnston, Richard Malcolm, 299. 

Kennedy, John Pendleton, 238. 
Kimball, Richard, 240. 
King, Charles, 290. 
Kinney, Coates, 275. 

Lanier, Sydney, 276. 
Lathrop, George Parsons, 283. 
Lawson, John, 3. 
Lazarus, Emma, 280. 
Leland, Charles Godfrey, 308. 
Lincoln, Abraham, 78. 
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 102. 
Longstreet, Augustus B., 239. 
Lowell, James Russell, 183. 

McClellan, General G. B., 312. 

McMaster, John Bach, 310. 

Madison, James, 32. 

Mason, John, 7. 

Mather, Cotton, 10. 

Mather, Increase, 10. 

Mather, Richard, 10. 

Mather, Samuel, 10. 

Matthews, Brander, 300. 

Mayo, W. S., 211. 

Melville, Herman, 208, 

Miller, C. H., (Joaquin), 246. 

Mitchell, Donald G'., (Ik Marvel), 240. 

Morton, Thomas, 5. 

Motley, John Lothrop, 83. 

Norton, Andrew, 153. 
Noyes, Nicholas, 13. 
Nye, E. W., (Bill). 318. 

Oakes, Urian, 9. 
O'Brien, Fitz-James, 277. 
O'Reilly, John Boyle, 279. 



INDEX. 



323 



Ossoli, Margaret Fuller, 148. 
Otis, James, 34. 

Page, Thomas Nelson, 299. 
Paine, Thomas, 27. 
Palfrey, John Gorham, 79. 
Pardee, R. G., 302. 
Parker, Theodore, 153. 
Parkman, Francis, 82. 
Parton, James, 307. 
Paulding, James Kirk, 63. 
Payne, J. H,, 27. 
Pendleton, Louis, 292. 
Percy, George, 3. 
Phelps, Elizabeth Stuart, 286. 
Phillips, Wendell, 72. 
Poe, Edgar Allan, 52. 
Prescott, William Hickling, 81. 

Quincy, Edmund, 239. 
Quincy, Josiah, 36. 

Reid, Christian, 292. 
Richardson, Charles F., 313. 
Riley, James Whitcomb, 318. 
Rives, Amelie, '292. 
Roe, E. P., 288. 
Rowlandson, Mary, 7. 
Rowson, Susanna, 62. 
Ryan, Abram J., 237. 

Saltus, Edgar, 292. 

Saxe, John G., 240. 

Sewall, Samuel, 6. 

Seward, William H., 78. 

Shaw, H. W., (Josh Billings), 318. 

Shepard, Thomas, 9. 

Sherman, General W. T., 312. 

Sheridan, General Philip, 312. 

Shillaber, B. P., 31^. 

Simms, William Giimore. 238. 

Smith, Captain John, 2. 

Southworth, Mrs, E. D. E. N., 239. 

Sparks, Jared, 79. 

Spofford, Harriet Prescott, 280. 

Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 271. 

Stephens, Alexander H., 78. 



Stimson, F. J., 284. 
Stith, William, 8. 
Stockton, Frank R., 264. 
Stoddard, Mrs. E. B., 209. 
Stoddard, Richard H., 269. 
Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 87. 
Strachey, William, 3. 
Sumner, Charles, 72. 

Taylor, Bayard, 214. 
Tenney, Tabitha, 62. 
Thaxter, Celia, 281. 
Thomas, Edith, 281. 
Thomas, Gabriel, 3. 
Thoreau, Henry David, 145. 
Ticknor, George, 87. 
Timrod, Henry, 237. 
Trumbull, John, 26. 
Tyler, Moses Coit, 313. 
Tyler, Royall, 26. 

Very, Jones, 153. 

Wallace, Lew, 289. 
Warner, Charles Dudley, 304. 
Webb, C. H., 317. 
Webster, Daniel, 73. 
Weiss, John, 155. 
Whipple, E. P., 206. 
Whitaker, Alexander, 6. 
White, Richard Grant, 306. 
Whitman, Walt, 259. 
Whitney, Mrs. A. D. T., 240. 
Whittier, John G., 198. 
Wigglesworth, Michael, 12. 
Wilde, Richard Henry, 239. 
Willard, Samuel, 11. 
Williams, John, 7. 
Williams, Roger, 9. 
//illis, N. P., 63. 
Winslow, Edward, 4. 
Winthrop, John, 5. 
Winthrop, Robert Charles, 78. 
Winthrop, Theodore, 213. 
Wirt, Charles William, 239. 
Wise, John, 11. 
Woolson, Constance Fenimore, 284. 



ENGLISH LITERATURE. 

Hawthorne and Lemmon's American Literature. A manual for high schools 

and academies. $1.25. 

Meiklejohn's History of English Language and Literature. For high schools 

and colleges. A compact and reliable statement of the essentials ; also included in 
Meiklejohn's English Language (see under English Language). 90 cts. 

Meiklejohn's History of English Literature. ii6 pages. Part iv of English 

Literature, above. 45 cts. 

Hodgkins' Studies in English Literature. Gives full lists of aids for laboratory 

method. Scott, Lamb, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, Keats, Macaulay. 
Dickens, Thackeray, Robert Browning, Mrs. Browning, Carlyle, Georije Eliot, Tenny- 
son, Rossetti, Arnold, Ruskin, Irving, Bryant, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Emerson, 
Whittier, Holmes, and Lowell. A separate pamphlet on each author. Price 5 cts. each, 
or per hundred, $3.00; complete in cloth (adjustable file cover, $1.50). ;^i.oo, 

Scudder's Shelley's Prometheus Unbound. With introduction and copious 

notes. 70 cts. 

George's Wordsworth's Prelude. Annotated for high school and college. Never 
before published alone. 80 cts. 

George's Selections from Wordsworth. i68 poems chosen with a view to illustrate 

the growth of the poet's mind and art. $1.00. 

George's Wordsworth's Prefaces and Essays on Poetry. Contains the best of 

Wordsworth's prose. 60 cts. 
George's Webster's Speeches. Nine select speeches with notes. $1.50. 

George's Burke's American Orations. Cloth. 65 cts. 

George's Syllabus of English Literature and History. Shows in parallel 

columns, the progress of History and Literature. 20 cts. 

Corson's Introduction to Browning, a guide to the study of Browning's Poetry. 
Also has 33 poems with notes. J1.50. 

Corson's Introduction to the Study of Shakespeare. A critical study of 

Shakespeare's art, with examination questions. ^1.50. 

Corson's Introduction to the Study of Milton, in press. 
Corson's Introduction to the Study of Chaucer, in press. 

Cook's Judith. The Old English epic poem, with introduction, translation, glossary and 
fac-simile page. $1.60. Students' edition without translation. 35 cts. 

Cook's The Bible and English Prose Style. Approaches the study of the Bible 

from the literary side. 60 cts. 

Simonds' Sir Thomas Wyatt and his Poems. i68 pages. With biography, and 

critical analysis of his poems. 75 cts. 

Hall's Beowulf. A metrical translation. $i.oo. Students' edition. 35 cts. 

Norton's Heart of Oak Books. A series of five volumes giving selections from the 
choicest English literature. 

Phillips's History and Literature in Grammar Grades. An essay showing th« 

intimate relation of the two subjects. 15 cts. 

See also our list 0/ books for the study oftJie English Language. 



D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. NEW YORK, CHICAGO. 



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Hyde's Lessons in English, Book I. For the lower grades. Contains exerciseg 

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Hyde's Lessons in English, Book II. For Grammar schools. Has enough tech- 
nical grammar for correct use of language. 60 cts. 

Hyde's Lessons in English, Book II with Supplement. Has, in addition 

to the above, iiS pages of technical grammar. 70 cts. 
Supplement bound alone, 35 cts. 

Hyde's Advanced Lessons in English. For advanced classes in grammar schools 

and high schools. 60 cts. 

Hyde's Lessons in English, Book II with Advanced Lessons. The Ad. 

vanced Lessons and Book II bound together. 80 cts. 

Hyde's Derivation of Words. 15 cts. 

Mathews's Outline of English Grammar, with Selections for Practice. 

The application of principles is made through composition of original sentences. 80 cts. 
Buckbee's Primary Word Book. Embraces thorough drills in articulation and in 

the primary difficulties of spelling and sound. 30 cts. 

Sever's Progressive Speller. For use in advanced primary, intermediate, and gram, 
mar grades. Gives spelling, pronunciation, definition, and use of words. 30 cts. 

Badlam's Suggestive Lessons in Language. Being Part i and Appendix of 

Suggestive Lessons in Language and Reading. 50 cts. 

Smith's Studies in Nature, and Language Lessons. A combination of object 

lessons with language work. 50 cts. Part I bound separately, 25 cts. 

MeiklejOhn's English Language. Treats salient features with a master's skUl and 
with the utmost clearness and simplicity. ^1.30. 

Meiklejohn's English Grammar. Also composition, versification, paraphrasing, etc. 

For high schools and colleges. 90 cts. 

Meiklejohn's History of the English Language. 78 pages. Part ill of Eng- 
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Williams's Composition and Rhetoric by Practice. For high school and col- 
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edition. $1.00. 

Strang's Exercises in English. Examples in Syntax, Accidence, and Style for 
criticism and correction. 50 cts. 

Huffcutt's English in the Preparatory School. Presents as practically as pos- 

sible some of the advanced methods of teaching English grammar and composition in the 
secondary schools. 25 cts. 

Woodward's Study of English. Discusses English teaching from primary scho<J to 

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Genung's Study of Rhetoric. Shows the most practical discipline of b.udents for tin 

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GCSdchild's Book of Stops. Punctuation in Verse. Illustrated. 10 cts. 
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Edgren's French Grammar, Part I. For those who wish to leam quickly to read 
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Schiller's Der Taucher. With notes and vocabulary by Professor Van der Smissen 
of the University of Toronto. Paper. 24 pages. 12 cts. 

Schiller's Der Neffe als Onkel. With notes and vocabulary by Professor H. S 
Beresford-Webb of WelUngton College, England. Paper. 128 pages. 30 cts. 

Benedix'S Die HOChzeitsreise. with notes by Natalie Schiefferdecker, of Abbott 
Academy, Boards. 68 pages. 25 cts. 

Arnold's Fritz auf Ferien. with notes by A. W. Spanhoofd of the New England 
College of Languages. Boards. 00 pages. 00 cts. 



D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. LONDON. 



MATHEMATICS, 



Bowser's Academic Algebra. A complete treatise through the progressions, inclttd' 
ing Permutations, Combinations, and the Binomial Theorem. Half leather. $1.25. 

Bowser's College Algebra, a complete treatise for colleges and scientific schools. 
Half leather. $1.65. 

Bowser's Plane and Solid Geometry. Combines the excellences of Euclid with 
those of the best modern writers. Half leather. $1.35. 

Bowser's Plane Geometry. Half leather. 85 cts. 

Bowser's Elements of Plane and Spherical Trigonometry. A brief course 

prepared especially for High Schools and Academies. Half leather, ^i.oo. 

Bowser's Treatise on Plane and Spherical Trigonometry. An advanced 

work which covers the entire course in higher institutions. Half leather. $1.65. 

Hanus's Geometry in the Grammar Schools. An essay, together with illustrative . 

class exercises and an outline of the work for the last three years of the grammar schooL 
52 pages. 25 cts. 

Hopkin's Plane Geometry. On the heuristic plan. Half leather. 85 cts. 

Hunt's Concrete Geometry for Grammar Schools. The definitions and ele- 
mentary concepts are to be taught concretely, by much measuring, by the making of 
models and diagrams by the pupil, as suggested by the text or by his own invention. 
100 pages. Boards. 30 cts. 

Waldo's Descriptive Geometry. A large number of problems systematically ar- 
ranged and with suggestions. 90 cts. 

The New Arithmetic. By 300 teachers. Little theory and much practice. Also ao 
excellent review book. 230 pages. 75 cts. 

For Arithmetics and other elementary work see our list of books ift Number, 



D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 



SCIENCE, 

Shaler'S First Book in Geology. For high school, or highest class in grammar 
school, ^i.io. Bound in boards for supplementary reader. 70 cts. 

Ballard's World of Matter. a Guide to Mineralogy and chemistry. $1.00. 

Shepard'S Inorganic Chemistry. Descriptive and Qualitative; experimental and 
inductive; leads the student to observe and think. For high schools and colleges. $1.25. 

Shepard's Briefer Course in Chemistry ; with Chapter on Organic 

Chemistry. Designed for schools giving a half year or less to the subject, and schools 
limited in laboratory facilities. 90 cts. 

Shepard's Organic Chemistry. The portion on organic chemistry in Shepard'S 
Briefer Course is bound in paper separately. Paper. 30 cts. 

Shepard's Laboratory Note-Book. Blanks for experiments: tables for the re. 
actions of metallic salts. Can be used with any chemistry. Boards. 40 cts. 

Benton's Guide to General Chemistry, a manuaifor the laboratory. 40 cts. 

Remsen's Organic Chemistry. An introduction to the study of the Compounds 
of Carbon. For students of the pure science, or its application to arts. ^1.30. 

Orndorff's Laboratory Manual. Containing directions for a course of experiments 
in Organic Chemistry, arranged to accompany Remsen's Chemistry. Boards. 40 cts. 

Colt's Chemical Arithmetic. with a short system of Elementary Qualitative 
Analysis For high schools and colleges. 60 cts. 

Grabfield and Burns' Chemical Problems. For preparatory schools. 60 cts. 

Chute's Practical Physics. a laboratory book for high schools and colleges study- 
ing pnysics experimentally. Gives free details for laboratory work. ^1.25. 

ColtOn's Practical Zoology. Gives a clear idea of the subject as a whole, by the 
careful study of a few typical animals. 90 cts. 

Boyer's Laboratory Manual in Elementary Biology, a guide to the 

study of animals and plants, and is so constructed as to be of no help to the pupil unless 
he actually studies the specimens. 

Clark's Methods in Microscopy. This book gives in detail descriptions of methods 
that will lead any careful worker to successful results in microscopic manipulation. $1.60. 

Spalding's Introduction to Botany. practical Exercises in the Study of Plants 
by the laboratory method. 90 cts. 

Whiting's Physical Measurement. intended for students in Civll, Mechani- 
cal and Electrical Engineering, Surveying, Astronomical Work, Chemical Analysis, Phys- 
ical Investigation, and other branches in which accurate measurements are required. 
I. Fifty measurements in Density, Heat, Light, and Sound. $1.30. _ 
II. Fifty measurements in Sound, Dynamics, Magnetism, Electricity. $1.30. 
III. Principles and Methods of Physical Measurement, Physical Laws and Princi- 
ples, and Mathematical and Physical Tables. $1.30. 
IV. Appendix for the use of Teachers, including examples of observation and re- 
duction. Part IV is needed by students only when working without a teacher. 
$1.30. 

Parts I-III, in one vol., $3.25. Parts I-IV, in one vol., $4.00. 

Williams's Modern Petrography. An account of the application of the micra- 
scope to the study of geology. Paper. 25 cts. 

For elemetitary works see our list of books in Elementary Science. 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS. 

BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 



History. 



Sheldon's General History. For high school and college. The only history foV 
lowing the " seminary " or laboratory plan, now advocated by all leading teachers. 
Price, ^i.6o. 

Sheldon's Greek and Roman History. Contains the first 250 pages of the above 

book. Price, ^i.oo. 

Teacher's Manual to Sheldon's History. Puts into the instructoi 's hand the key 
to the above system. Price, 80 cents. 

Sheldon's Aids to the Teaching of General History. Gives list of essential 
books for reference library. Price, 10 cents, 

Bridgman's Ten Years of Massachusetts. Pictures the development of the 
Commonwealth as seen in its laws. Price, 75 cents. 

Shumway's A Day in Ancient Rome. With 59 illustrations. Should find a place 
as a supplementary reader in every high school class studying Cicero, Horace 
Tacitus, etc. Price, 75 cents. 

Old South Leaflets on TJ. S. History. Reproductions of important political and 
historical papers, accompanied by useful notes. Price, 5 cents each. Per hun- 
dred, ^3 00. 

This general series of Old South Leaflets now includes the following subjects : 
The Constitution of the United States, The Articles of Confederation, The De- 
claration of Independence, Washington's Farewell Address, Magna Charta, Vane's 
" Healing Question," Charter of Massachusetts Bay, 1629, Fundamental Orders 
of Connecticut, 1638, Franklin's Plan of Union, 1754, Washington's Inaugurals, 
Lincoln's Inaugurals and Emancipation Proclamation, The Federalist, Nos. i 
and 2, The Ordinance of 1787, The Constitution of Ohio, Washington's Letter to 
Benjamin Harrison, Washington's Circular Letter to the Governors. (38 Leaflets 
now ready.) 

Allen's History Topics. Covers Ancient, Modern, and American history, and 
gives an excellent list of books of reference. Price, 25 cents. 

Fisher's Select Bibliog. of Ecclesiastical History. An annotated list of the 
most essential books for a Theological student's library. Price, 15 cents. 

Hall's Methods of Teaching History. " Its excellence and helpfulness ought te 
secure it many readers." — The Nation. Price, ^1.50. 

Wilson's The State. Elements of Historical and Practical Politics. A text-book 
for advanced classes in high schools and colleges on the organization and func> 
tions of governments. Retail price, |l2.oo. 



D. C. HEATH & CO., Publishers, 

BOSTON, NEW YORK AND CHICAGO. 



CIVICS, ECONOMICS, AND SOCIOLOGY. 



Boutwell's The Constitution of the United States at the End of the First 

Century. Contains the Organic Laws of the United States, with references to the 
decisions of the Supreme Court which elucidate the text, and an historical chapter re- 
viewing the steps which led to the adoption of these Organic Laws. In press. 

Dole's The American Citizen. Designed as a text-book in civics and morals for the 

higher grades of the ^grammar school as well as for the high school and academy. Con^ 
tains Constitution of United States, with analysis. 336 pages. $1.00. 

Special editions are made for Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Missouri, Nebraska, No. Dakota, 
So. Dakota, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Kansas, Texas. 

Goodale's Questions to Accompany Dole's The American Citizen. Con- 
tains, beside questions on the text, suggestive questions and questions for class debate. 
87 pages. Paper. 25 cts. 

Gide'S Principles of Political Economy. Translated from the French by Dr. 
Jacobsen of London, with introduction by Prof. James Bonar of Oxford. 598 
pages. $2.00. 

Henderson's Introduction to the Study of Dependent, Defective, and 

Delinquent Classes. Adapted for use as a text-book, for personal study, for 
teachers' and ministers' institutes, and for clubs of public-spirited men and women engaged 
in considering some of the gravest problems of society. 287 pages. I1.50. 

Hodgin'S Indiana and the Nation. Contains the Civil Government of the State, 
as well as that of the United States, with questions. 198 pages. 70 cts. 

Lawrence's Guide to International Law. A brief outHne of the principles and 

practices of International Law. In press. 

Wenzel's Comparative View of Governments. Gives in parallel columns com- 
parisons of the governments of the United States, England, France, and Germany. 26 
pages. Paper. 22 cts. 

Wilson's The State. Elements of Historical and Practical Politics. A text-book on 
the organization and functions of government for high schools and colleges. 720 pages. 
$2.00. 

Wilson's United States Government. For grammar and high schools. 140 pages. 
60 cts. 

Woodburn and Hodgin's The American Commonwealth. Contains several 

orations from Webster and Burke, with analyses, historical and explanatory notes, and 
studies of the men and periods. 586 pages. $i.S°- 

Sent by mail, post paid on receipt of prices. See also our list of books in History. 



D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 



GEOGRAPHY AND MAPS, 



Heath's Practical School Maps. Each 30 x 40 inches. Printed from new plates 
and showing latest political changes. The common school set consists of Hemispheres, 
No. America, So. America, Europe, Africa, Asia, United States. Eyeletted for hanging 
on wall, singly, $1.25 ; per set of seven, %-j.oo. Mounted on cloth and rollers. Singly, 
$2.00. Mounted on cloth per set of seven, $12.00. Sunday School set. Canaan and 
Palestine. Singly, $1.25 ; per set of two, $2.00. Mounted, $2.00 each. 

Heath's Outline Map of the United States. invaluable for marking territorial 
growth and for the graphic representation of all geographical and historical matter. Small 
(desk) size, 2 cents each; $1.50 per hundred. Intermediate size, 30 cents each. Large 
size, 50 cts. ■ 

Historical Outline Map of Europe. 12 x 18 inches, on bond paper, in black outline. 
3 cents each ; per hundred, |'2.2S. 

Jackson's Astronomical Geography. Simple enough for grammar schools. Used 
for a brief course in high school. 40 cts. 

Map of Ancient History. Outline for recording historical growth and statistics (14 x 
\-] in.), 3 cents each ; per 100, I2.25. 

Nichols' Topics in Geography. A guide for pupils' use from the primary through 
the eighth grade. 65 cts. 

Picturesque Geography. 12 lithograph plates, 15 x 20 inches, and pamphlet describing 
their use. Per set, $3.00; mounted, I5.00. 

Progressive Outline Maps: United States, *World on Mercator's Projection (12 x 
20 in.) ; North America, South America, Europe, *Central and Western Europe, Africa, 
Asia, Australia, *British Isles, *England, *Greece, *Italy, New England, Middle Atlan- 
tic States, Southern States, Southern States — western section. Central Eastern States, 
Central Western States, Pacific States, New York, Ohio, The Great Lakes, Washington 
(State), *Palestine (each 10 x 12 in.). For the graphic representation by the pupil of 
geography, geology, history, meteorology, economics, and statistics of all kinds. 2 cents 
each; per hundred, $1.50. 
Those marked with Star (*) are also printed in black outline for use in teaching history. 

Redway's Manual of Geography. I. Hints to Teachers; II. Modem Facts and 
Ancient Fancies. 65 cts. 

Redway's Reproduction of Geographical Forms, i. Sand and ciay-Modelimg; 

II. Map Drawing and Projection. Paper. 30 cts. 

Roney's Student's Outline Map of England. For use in English History and 
Literature, to be filled in by pupils. 5 cts. 

Trotter's Lessons in the New Geography. Treats geography from the human 

point of view. Adapted for use as a text-book or as a reader. In press. 



D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. 



EDUCATION. 



Compayr^'S History of Pedagogy. " The best and most comprehensive history of 

Education in English." — Dr. G. S. Hall. $1-75. 
Compayr^'S Lectures on Teaching. " The best book in existence on thr theory and 

practice of education." — Supt. MacAlister, Philadelphia, ij^i.75. 

Compayr^'s Psychology Applied to Education. A clear and concise statement 

of doctrine and application on the science and art of teaching. 90 cts. 
De Garmo's Essentials of Method. A practical exposition of methods with illustra. 

five outlines of common school studies. 65 cts. 
De Garmo's Lindner's Psychology. The best Manual ever prepared from the 

Herbartian standpoint. $1.00. 
Gill's Systems of Education. " it treats ably of the Lancaster and Bell movement 

in education, — a very important phase." — Dr. W. T. Harris. ^1.25. 

Hall's Bibliography of Pedagogical Literature. Covers every department of 

education. Interleaved, *$2. 00. $1.50. 
Harford's Student's Froebel. The purpose of this little book is to give young people 
preparing to teach a brief yet full account of Froebel's Theory of Education. 75 cts. 

Malleson's Early Training of Children. "The best book for mothers I ever 

read." — Elizabeth P. Peabodv. 75 cts. 

Marwedel's Conscious Motherhood. The unfolding of the child's mind in the 

cradle, nursery and Kindergarten. $2.00. 
Newsholme'S School Hygiene. Already in use in the leading training colleges in 
England. 75 cts. 

Peabody's Home, Kindergarten, and Primary School. "The best book out- 
side of the Piible that I ever read." — A Leading Teacher. $1.00. 

PestaloZZi'S Leonard and Gertrude, "if we except 'Emile' only, no more im- 
portant educational book has appeared for a century and a half than ' Leonard and Ger- 
trude.' " — The Nation. 90 cts. 

RadestOCk's Habit in Education. " it will prove a rare * find' to teachers who are 
seeking to ground themselves in the philosophy of their art." — E. H. Russell, Worces- 
ter Normal School. 75 cts. 

Richter's Levana ; or, The Doctrine of Education. "A spirited and scholarly 

book." — Prof. W. H. PayxNE. $1.40. 
ROSmini'S Method in Education. " The most important pedagogical work ever 
written.'' — Thomas Davidson. ^^1.50. 

Rousseau's Emile. " Perhaps the most influential book ever written on the subject of 

Education." — R. H. Quick. 90 cts. 
Methods of Teaching Modern Languages. Papers on the value and on methods 

of teaching German and French, by prominent instructors. 90 cts. 

Sanford's Laboratory Course in Physiological Psychology. The course 

includes experiments upon the Dermal Senses, Static and Kinaesthetic Senses, Taste, 
Smell, Hearing, Vision, Psychophysic. In Press. 

Lange's Apperception : A monograph on Psychology and Pedagogy. Trans- 
lated by tlie members of the Herbart Club, under the direction of President Charles 
DeGarmo, of Swarthmore College. ^1.00. 

Herbart's Science of Education. Translated by Mr. and Mrs. Felken with a pref- 
ace by Oscar Browning. ;^i.oo, 

Tracy's Psychology of Childhood. This is the first ^^w^-ra/ treatise covering in a 
scientific manner the whole field of child psychology. Octavo. Paper. 75 cts. 
Sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO, 


















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